


haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

by coalitiongirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hope Swan-Mills - Freeform, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: Post-finale. Regina returns home to Storybrooke after years away to find that very little has changed in the years since she'd been gone. She still has a son there waiting, struggling to adjust to a new world. She still has a partner, a best friend in a turbulent marriage who looks at her with far too much raw affection in her eyes.But Emma also has a little girl now, an infant with Regina's eyes and Regina's magic, and soon, all of Storybrooke as Regina has known it will change irrevocably with her arrival.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SgtMac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtMac/gifts).



> So!! Before you read on, please be aware that this fic begins the day after the last scene in 7.22 and therefore contains various **finale spoilers**. I would have waited to post it but unfortunately I'm going offline literally right now for the next...three days, lol. I recommend you read after you've seen the finale!
> 
> Please note that this is a multichapter fic posted all at once. I would love feedback from y'all if you're so inclined! 
> 
> Thanks to Maia for reading through and naming it! This fic is for Shawn– I made you some cookies. :)

Hope’s eyes have shifted to brown overnight, a deep, familiar brown that leaves a lump in Regina’s throat. Or maybe it’s there because of the way that Emma breezes into her office the morning after the coronation with her eyes bright as though she’s never been happier. “Good morning, Your Majesty-est,” she says cheerfully. Regina quirks an eyebrow, doing her best not to glance down at the stroller in front of Emma. “Your Excellency?” Emma tries. “Queen of the Universe?” 

 

“Madam Mayor,” Regina says archly, and Emma grins, sliding the stroller over to the desk and plopping down on one of the chairs.

 

“My very favorite version of Regina Mills,” she says, and she leans over to brush a loose lock of hair out of Regina’s face. Regina bats her away, her heart beating too quickly. It’s just a touch. This is  _ them _ , and this is normal. 

 

The baby is fussing, and Regina can feel it tug at something instinctive within her. She rounds the desk, relieved at the opportunity to avoid eye contact with Emma, and lifts Hope into her arms. 

 

Hope calms at once, gurgling sleepily, and Regina rocks her and notices for the first time that her eyes are brown now. “I thought they’d stay blue,” she comments.

 

Emma shrugs. “I guess there’s someone far enough back in my family with brown eyes. It’s dominant.” But she’s watching Regina as she says it, a wistful look in her eyes. “In the memories you gave me, Henry’s turned green after almost a year. I didn’t even notice at first.” 

 

Regina looks up, startled, and Hope fusses for a moment until her eyes drift shut again. “You still remember those memories?” 

 

“They were the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me,” Emma murmurs, and the mood shifts, becomes too heavy instead of the breezy they’ve been trying hard at. She watches Regina with warm eyes that mean too much, and Regina clears her throat and looks down at Hope again.

 

“Not this little girl?” 

 

Emma snorts. “Are you kidding? Ten months straight of hormones and  _ waddling _ and– you know, they say that morning sickness ends after the first semester, but it’s a  _ lie _ – not to mention that hellish night where I spent four hours in labor  _ alone _ because Killian was battling some random pirate from his past who’d shown up in Storybrooke.” She makes a face, which isn’t enough to assuage the burn that comes from hearing Emma talking about her husband.

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Regina says, and she means it. She’s heard enough about the drama that had come with Hope’s birth to last a lifetime, and there’s a petty part of her that’s always going to be smug that Hook had missed the birth of his daughter. But she had never intended for Emma to be  _ alone _ . 

 

Emma’s face is solemn, her eyes seeking out Regina’s and holding them. “You were looking out for our son,” she says, an easy forgiveness before a murmured confession. “But I wish you’d been there, too. I missed you these past months.” 

 

It would have been hell to witness, and had been a considerable part of why Regina had left in the first place. Emma can’t know that, though, and there is nothing but simple longing in her voice. “I missed you, too,” Regina whispers. 

 

It’s been longer than months for her. It’s been eleven years of standing still as Henry had grown and raised his own daughter and they’d fought new enemies together, and eleven years of Emma the brightest star in the night sky of her memories. She’d come home and Emma had been sequestered in her house with a newborn, and Regina had kept herself from visiting and sent fond messages through Snow instead. 

 

She hadn’t been ready. Emma hadn’t come to see her in the weeks that had followed; and she can blame it on Hope, but Regina wonders if Emma might know deep down and had been sparing her. It hadn’t been until yesterday that she’d seen Emma for the first time.

 

And now Emma is back in her office as though nothing has changed, baby in tow. “And you were across the country all this time with a  _ bar _ and  _ Def Leppard tattoos _ ,” Emma says, smirking.

 

Regina’s head jerks up in outrage. “Who told you about the tattoo?” she demands, horrified. “I’m going to kill Zelena.” 

 

Emma scoffs. “Of course Zelena knew,” she mutters, mostly to herself, and then brightens again. “You’ll have to kill our older son,” she says, and she stands, moving a little too close to Regina. Regina steps back, balancing Hope against her. “Where is it? On your arm?” She lifts Regina’s arm, examining it until Regina yanks it away. “Your back,” she guesses, her fingers grazing the small of Regina’s back. “No, right under your collarbone–” 

 

Regina ducks away before Emma can touch her chest, and Emma’s hand lands on her shoulder instead. “It’s  _ gone _ ,” she says huffily, turning to ease Hope back into her stroller before her stiff hands wake the baby. “I was cursed.” 

 

“That’s what they all say,” Emma says, smug, her hand still loose on Regina’s shoulder. When Regina looks up, Emma is still gazing at her, the playfulness gone. “I really did miss you,” she whispers. “You’re my best friend, you know?” 

 

“I know,” Regina murmurs back. It’s what they’ve been for a long time, and Regina has never wanted to disrupt that. It’s been complicated and an arduous journey to this place, and Regina has had precious few things in her life that have lasted to toss this one away because of…

 

…Because of Emma’s hand, squeezing her shoulder, her brow furrowing. “You’re so tense,” she says absently, her other hand moving to Regina’s other shoulder and massaging it. Regina feels a bolt of heat to her core, an electricity that leaves her skin charged. “All the stress of protecting all the realms, huh?” 

 

“Emma,” Regina says in a strained voice, and it takes a moment before Emma stops rubbing her shoulders, looking down at her with very familiar glazed eyes. “Please remember what happened the last time you tried giving me a massage.” 

 

The reminder hits Emma like a bolt of lightning, and she stumbles back, eyes wide. “Shit,” she says. 

 

“No language in front of the baby,” Regina reprimands shakily. 

 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Emma repeats, staring at Regina, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean to– god, Regina. I wasn’t trying to–” She twists around, clenching her fists. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she says, her own shoulders dropping in defeat, and it stings where it shouldn’t. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was–” 

 

Regina nods, planting a hand on her desk for some balance. “I know,” she says, as calmly as she can manage. Her heart is twisting, and she’s reminded acutely of why she’d left in the first place. “You have a  _ baby _ now, Emma.” She infuses that with all the emotion she can, all the sincerity and all of the hopelessness that comes with it. “With a terrible name,” she adds, partially to lighten the tension and partially because it  _ is _ . 

 

Emma smiles, her eyes hollow but her tone light. “Whenever you lecture her, we can call it a Hope speech,” she says, and it’s  _ truly _ terrible, it is, but Regina is near tears already.

 

“Emma,” she says, a shuddering laugh escaping her lips, and Emma surges forward and burrows in her arms, squeezing her eyes shut. Regina holds her, feels her trembling and kisses the top of her head, and this was a mistake. Trying to go back to who they’d been had been a mistake. There had been no going back before Regina had run off to another realm, and now…

 

She blinks away any stray tears that might have escaped and lets Emma go. “Go home to your husband,” she whispers, and Emma’s jaw tightens. She looks younger, suddenly, stubborn and lost. “We’ll figure this out. We just need time.” 

 

Hope cries out in her sleep, and Regina strokes her cheek, searching her face for some remnant of Hook. She can’t find him in this little girl, can’t find any reason to resent a baby for  _ being _ , and she sees only Henry within her. Hope quiets again, and Emma watches her with wet eyes as Regina pushes the carriage to her.

 

She backs out of the room, her eyes anguished and all breeziness forgotten.

 

* * *

 

There had been a time between the marriage and the road trip when everything had been fine. Henry had been growing up and they’d been parenting him ably, Emma had lived in a house across the neighborhood but she’d still been at Regina’s house nearly every day. There had been a lot of squabbles between the newlyweds as the years had gone on, and Regina had borne them with self-control, had listened to Emma rant and demurred when Emma had given her a knowing look and said  _ I know you don’t think any of this is worth it. _

 

Emma had been in love– if not with Hook, then with picture-perfect happy endings. Regina hadn’t begrudged her for it. Regina had been content in Storybrooke, if not perfectly so, and she’d only wanted to do right by the growing number of people she’d loved. She hadn’t lied to Emma, but she hadn’t quite encouraged her to work through her marital disputes as enthusiastically as she should have.

 

They’d made plans together for a graduation trip for Henry, and Regina had been resigned to the fact that Hook would be accompanying them, only to be pleasantly surprised when it had just been Emma.  _ This is for us,  _ Emma had said adamantly.  _ Swan-Mills family road trip. _ Regina’s heart had felt like it might burst just at  _ Swan-Mills family _ , and she’d felt a little more contentment than before.

 

It had all fallen apart a week into the trip, somewhere deep within a segment of New Hampshire national park that has boasted some unusual local legends. They’d had a long day hiking through it, laughing at the idea of an enchanted forest in the Land Without Magic and taking trails that had been rocky and rough. They’d all been exhausted at the end, and they’d barely made it to the edge of the forest, hungry and tired and with the slightest magic tickling at Regina’s senses. An irritable Henry had passed out on his bed before they could pick a restaurant, and she and Emma had picked up food together and then headed to the motel room they’d been sharing. 

 

She still remembers every moment of it acutely. Regina had been sitting on Emma’s bed to pull off her stockings, and Emma had rubbed her shoulders, griping in solidarity at their son’s mood swings.  _ You get so stressed when he’s cranky _ , she’d said, her hands sending little shockwaves through Regina’s body when they’re meant to relax her.  _ It’s not healthy for either of you _ .

 

_ What would I do without you?  _ Regina had murmured, and she’d twisted and– she replays it over and over in her mind, and she still can’t piece together which of them had initiated the kiss. It had happened so quickly, the massage and the kissing and then suddenly Emma’s hand creeping up her bare legs, Regina writhing, both of them lost in each other. They’d laughed and panicked and lost themselves in each other breathlessly, kissed enough to make up for years without kisses, and they’d fallen asleep together wrapped in each other, fully spent.

 

It had ruined Regina’s life in a single night. And there had been no  _ choice _ , no other option, because Emma is married and it means something to her. Regina won’t be the one to stand in the way of Emma’s happiness, and that means that Emma can never know what that night had meant to Regina. They had laughed it off shakily in the morning, had promised each other that it had been nothing, had managed one lingering, scorching kiss in the morning before they’d left that motel room and ventured back into reality.

 

And everything had changed regardless. They’d made an extra effort to keep things  _ normal _ , to be best friends in defiance of what had happened between them, and Emma had succeeded, of course. She’d had Hook, and she’d settled right back into her role as happy homemaker as soon as they’d returned home. She’d still come by for drinks and visit at lunchtime and they’d studiously avoided discussing the tension between them, because Emma is  _ happy _ .

 

Regina hadn’t been so fortunate, had never been, not after what’s been seven years of being quietly in love. She’d always been careful, had never let her feelings consume her, but then Emma had turned down her cider one night and sat there guiltily on the couch with her fingers twisting together over her stomach, and Regina had known.

 

The marriage hadn’t changed anything between them because Regina had always seen it as temporary, she knows. Marriage is dissolved with only a paper and a few words. A child is  _ eternal _ , is something that binds two people together beyond any silly vows or ceremonies. Regina knows that intimately, knows what it means to share a child with Emma Swan. A child changes everything.

 

_ I’m sorry _ , Emma had whispered, and Regina had said,  _ You have nothing to apologize for _ , though they both had known that she had. The math had been easy to do on the spot, and the timing had been precise. Emma had gone right from their road trip to conceiving a child with Hook, and Regina hadn’t been able to pretend that she’d been all right anymore. 

 

She wonders what it had been that Henry had seen on her face to push her to join him in a different realm. Maybe it had only been how desperately she’d wanted to escape Emma Swan.

 

Eleven years hadn’t been long enough.

 

* * *

 

The house is dark when she comes home that night, and she’s startled when she sees a movement in the living room. “Show yourself,” she snaps out, calling a fireball, and it illuminates Ry’s face.  _ Ry _ , Henry for short and for simplicity. He’d chosen the name. He’s a Henry from another realm whom she’d brought home to Emma months ago, who’s still adapting to this world and had called her  _ Mom  _ yesterday.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “I came in through the back door.” He glances at her fireball, fidgety, and she extinguishes it and flips the light on. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight?” 

 

He hasn’t asked that before. He stays with Emma most of the time, she knows, and he visits her only for brief periods of time. Too many years conditioned to hate her have taken their toll, and she’s prepared for baby steps. 

 

But he sits today on her couch, a surly teenager with so much repressed that she’d never dealt with with Henry, and she sits next to him carefully, folding her hands onto her lap. “Is everything all right between you and Emma?” 

 

He shrugs. “It’s fine.” Another moment of silence, in which Regina waits as patiently as she can manage, and then he says abruptly, “She went to see you today.” 

 

“She did. We were very close for a long time,” Regina says delicately. “I know it wasn’t like that in your realm–” 

 

“She locked herself in her room when she got home,” Ry says, and his eyes are challenging, on a precipice. “Just her and the baby. What did you say to her?” he demands. There are times when she’s sure that this is  _ it _ , that he’s going to storm out and return to Emma and never look back at her. There are times when she doesn’t understand why he’d want to be around her at all. 

 

But today, he sounds like raw energy desperate to be calmed, and she takes a slow breath and touches her hand to his. He isn’t quite like the Henry she’s raised, but he’s still  _ Henry _ , and she feels it each time that they talk. “It’s complicated,” she says, and her voice cracks. 

 

Ry looks at her in alarm, the hostility fading into chagrin. “Mom,” he says worriedly, and it’s the second time he’s called her that but it still leaves her breathless. “Mom, what’s wrong with you two?”

 

Regina leans back against the couch, resting her head on the cushion and staring up at the ceiling. Ry’s hand touches her shoulder, tentative and not quite comfortable, and she says, “How is Hook with Hope?” 

 

She’s tormenting herself. It’s been many years of redemption and a damned  _ coronation _ as an elected queen, and she still feels the need to make herself suffer. There is no other discernible reason why she’d ask–

 

“He’s okay, I guess.” Ry shrugs. “He doesn’t really know what to do with a baby, but he plays with her sometimes. Mom takes care of Hope.” He says it definitively, as though he’d never imagined anything different, and Regina aches and doesn’t know why. “He’s always talking about how he’s going to take her out sailing when the weather is nice. Which is stupid. She’s a baby.” He sounds cranky about it, and Regina sits up to watch him for a moment, finding all the tells that she’d learned so well from the other Henry. 

 

She chooses her words carefully. “If you were worried about Emma, why would you come here tonight? Why not stay with her?” 

 

Ry shrugs sullenly, caught in whatever he’s hiding, and he mumbles, “I just didn’t want to be there with just him.” 

 

She can feel suspicion rising within her, and she studies his face with sudden concern. “Ry, is Hook…is he making you uncomfortable, or saying anything he shouldn’t be–?” 

 

“No,” Ry says quickly, and he bites his lip. “Not really. He’s just…I don’t think he really sees the  _ point  _ of me now that he’s already married to my mother.” Regina lets out a strangled sound and Ry scowls at the floor. “He says things like…he doesn’t even see me as real.” 

 

“Ry,” Regina says, the guilt overwhelming. She’d brought him home to this timeline just before she’d known her past self would be leaving with the other Henry, and she’d entrusted him with Emma and her husband. She hadn’t thought that he’d be unhappy with them. “Of course you’re real. You might be from another realm, but that doesn’t make you any less real than…than Lucy, or Alice, or anyone who’s come to this land from somewhere else. And you’re still Emma’s son,” she says firmly. Emma would be aghast if she knew about this. Wouldn’t she? “You’re still my son. We found you and we chose you.” 

 

Ry stares up at her, his jaw clenched and his chin wavering, and she’s ready for him when he lunges into her arms, burying his face in her shoulder. For all the tension that suffuses them when they’re together, they’re  _ connected  _ now, as much as they might have been in another lifetime. “He isn’t good enough for her,” Ry mumbles into her shoulder. 

 

His mother had been a princess, and she might not put any stock into that in this realm, but Regina knows as well as Ry does that he’s right. “I know,” she murmurs, and she thinks  _ they have a child together _ like a sick reminder that they’re always going to be connected. “But Emma has never done very well with being told what to do or who to love.” 

 

Ry sighs, and they settle into silence, fraught with uncertain discontent.

 

* * *

 

She isn’t planning on approaching Emma after their last failed attempt at friendliness. She  _ isn’t _ . But there are documents on her desk that need to go to the sheriff here if she wants to take care of a conflict that’s risen between two of the realms, and she expects to meet Hook at the station, not Emma.

 

A foul alternative, but a safer one. Her heart twists when she walks into the station and Emma looks up at her with soft eyes. “Regina,” she murmurs. Ry is in a chair on the opposite side of the room, Hope cradled in his lap as he squints at one of the textbooks that Regina had gotten for him from the high school. 

 

“Mom,” he says, his eyes flickering from Emma back to Regina for a curious moment. The odd look is gone as quickly as it had come. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, and there’s a familiar jutting out of his lower lip in a pout. “Everyone in this town just had an  _ education  _ cursed into their brains. I don’t see why I have to–“ 

 

“ _ Study _ , kid,” Emma says, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at Henry.

 

He bats it away without a second thought. “I know everything about running a kingdom,” he says sulkily. 

 

“And nothing about basic science,” Regina interjects, frowning severely at him. “Listen to your mother.” 

 

He slumps in his chair, pouting at both of them. Regina mutters, “At least  _ one  _ of our children is going to college.”

 

Emma snorts. “We may need to have another, then.” 

 

Regina looks at her askance. Emma looks down at her desk, a flush spreading high on her cheekbones. Regina swallows. “Not if you pick the name,” she says instead, smirking at Emma, who looks very offended. 

 

“What’s wrong with Hope? It’s inspirational.” Regina just stares at her, an eyebrow arched. “I wanted Reina,” Emma says dryly, and  _ that’s  _ a twist. “For  _ some _ reason, that made Killian very cranky. So we settled on Hope.” 

 

“Sweet,” Regina says, her voice too hostile to be playful. Ry is looking between them again, brow furrowed, and she forces her tone into something lighter. “Let me guess. Your mother put it on the list.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds of you will be insufferable for the next ten decades.”

 

The tension fades and Regina grins smugly. “I would have expected her to pick Milah.” Emma gives her a pained look, but there’s relief beneath it. This is a safe conversation, playful jabs and light responses. Nothing simmering beneath the surface today will emerge. 

 

“Oh,  _ gross _ !” Ry says suddenly, lifting up the baby in dismay. There’s a little puddle of spit-up on his jacket, dripping down his knee, and Emma groans in solidarity and tosses him a burp cloth. “Mom,” Ry says pleadingly, and Regina sighs and scoops up the baby. 

 

“Hello,” she whispers, and it’s hard to resent this baby when she looks so much like Henry, her skin a shade darker and her eyes brown but the same features to her face. Hope looks up at her as Regina smiles tentatively, and the baby’s face splits into a toothless smile. 

 

“Oh, you smile, do you?” she murmurs, stroking the baby’s cheek. She can feel that instinctive tugging at her again, and she lifts the baby, cradling her in her arms and pressing a kiss to her brow. Hope is smiling again when she looks back at her, and Regina can feel a lump in her throat, an overwhelming emotion that she can’t deny. 

 

Emma touches her shoulder unexpectedly and Regina startles, jostling the baby. Hope fusses and Regina moves to pass her to her mother but  _ can’t _ , not yet, not when she can hold Hope against her and rock her as she hums gently. “You’re so good with her,” Emma whispers, and Regina turns to look at her.

 

They’re standing too close, the space between them fraught and tender, and Regina clutches Hope and meets Emma’s eyes. Emma is smiling tentatively, her eyes so warm with emotion that they were never supposed to express, and Regina can only gaze back with equal intensity. “She’s a good baby,” she says.

 

Emma laughs, just a breath against Regina’s cheek. “She never stops fussing,” she says. “This is your…gift with my family. The whole Charming clan loves you.” She lays a hand over Hope’s back, the tips of her fingers brushing against Regina’s hand. Regina shivers.

 

“That’s my curse, you mean,” Regina manages. She can feel a deep warmth blooming in her body, a wanting that she’s never managed to fully quell. Emma spends so much time shifting between superficial wants and needs that it’s intoxicating when she peels them away and leaves raw, deep-seated affection in their place. “I suppose I’ll have to live with…with capturing the heart of another of Snow’s spawn.” 

 

Emma laughs again. “I  _ suppose _ ,” she says, and she wraps an arm around Regina, pulling her close and leaning against her shoulder. “I knew I picked the right godmother.” 

 

“Godmother?” Regina says, distracted. “You didn’t say.” It might have been cruel, perhaps, if she’d been around when the baby had been born. Instead, she’s left with the disquieting knowledge that Emma hadn’t forgotten her the moment that she’d left or moved on, had instead… 

 

_ Godmother _ , she thinks ruefully, and strokes Hope’s back. Emma says, “Of course.” 

 

From his chair, Ry is watching them, his brow creased and his eyes inquisitive. Regina straightens, and Emma shifts off her shoulder, but her hand remains with Regina’s on Hope’s back.


	2. Chapter 2

There is an emergency call from Henry– the older Henry– regarding a strange incident in his realm with a portal that seems to be sucking people into the abyss, and Regina calls Emma to let her know that she’ll be away for a few days. “Alone?” Emma says, and Regina can hear her frown over the line. “Are you bringing Zelena?” 

 

“She’s off in Oz on vacation,” Regina says, tapping her fingers against her desk. “I don’t want to bother her. Henry and I will take care of it together.” She hasn’t seen him in nearly a week, which is far too long. It’s been an exhausting, complicated week since the coronation, and she’s looking forward to a chance to return to Henry and Lucy and Ella.

 

Emma hesitates, and then she says, “I’m coming with you.” 

 

“You are not.” 

 

“I am!” Emma’s voice is mulish over the line. “You all told me I had to stay home when I was expecting, and then I spent a  _ month _ cooped up recovering. Killian still gets tetchy when I go to the station just for paperwork. I’m done with everyone telling me I can’t be a part of the action anymore because of a  _ baby _ .” 

 

“You love that baby,” Regina reminds her, and Emma heaves a sigh.

 

“I know. But I’m not…I’m not that kind of mom, you know? I can’t put the world on hold until she grows up.” Emma sighs again. “I can bring her along and leave her with Henry, if we need. I miss  _ magic _ . I miss fighting people.” 

 

It’s so  _ endearing _ , and Regina is, as ever, helpless when Emma wants something from her. “At least send Ry to your parents in the Enchanted Forest,” she says, and she hangs up before Emma can argue with her.

 

Emma arrives at her office a half hour later pushing a stroller with a baby sling under her arm. Inevitably, Regina winds up wearing the baby sling (“I can swing a sword with it on,” Emma says defensively, and Regina says, “Give me that thing”), Hope snuggled into it and fast asleep as they head to the well that serves as a doorway to Henry’s realm. “Why did you want Ry at my parents?” Emma asks as they stand over it. 

 

Maybe she really doesn’t know. “He mentioned something to me the other day,” Regina says cautiously, stepping up to the well. A portal springs open in front of them, over the well, and Emma folds the stroller and hoists it over her shoulder. She takes Regina’s hand with her free one, watching her instead of the portal. “I don’t think he feels quite at home with your husband.” 

 

Emma winces. “Yeah. Killian and Ry have moments where they’re fine and friendly, and then the next, Killian’s being dismissive and Ry is sulking. Raising a teenager together can be a learning experience, you know?” She smiles, tentative, because of course they do know. She’s still watching Regina as they walk through the portal.

 

This Enchanted Forest is always very familiar and wildly changed at the same time. There’s an energy in the air that Regina had grown accustomed to while she’d been there, but she’d forgotten it during the years in Hyperion Heights. Now, it hits her again, and she inhales it as Hope begins to cry.

 

“It’s all right,” Regina murmurs, and Emma lays a hand on Hope’s back and kisses the top of her head, the two of them huddled close around the baby. “Can you feel that, sweetheart? Just a little bit of different magic.” 

 

“She can feel the magic,” Emma says, a little breathless. Regina is breathless, too, though she can’t say if it’s from passing through the portal or from Emma standing so close. “Does that mean she has magic?” 

 

“She is your daughter,” Regina points out, feeling a pang of loss when Emma takes the baby out of the sling and cradles her in her arms. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Emma gazes at Hope, her brow creasing, and Regina can’t tell if she’s pleased or disappointed. “That doesn’t mean she has to become a savior, too,” Regina murmurs. “She might just have the tools to, if she chooses it.” 

 

Emma seems to relax at that. “You never know,” she says, bumping her arm against Regina’s. “Maybe she’ll become Queen of the Universe.” 

 

Regina scoffs, turning around to watch as someone approaches down the path to them. It’s a trio, Henry– the older Henry, who’d grown up with her– and Lucy both racing on their horses to fight for the lead. Regina twists her hand and conjures a tiny waft of dust below Henry’s horse’s nostrils, the horse slowing to sneeze and Lucy flying past him. “Regina! Gramma Emma!” she says, tumbling off her horse to beam up at them. “You’re here!” 

 

Emma crouches beside her, touching her cheek with a hint of reverence. “Lucy,” she says, and there had been the same note of disbelief in her voice when they’d met at the coronation, as though Emma can’t quite believe that she’s real. Lucy hugs her easily, beams at her as though she’s a heroic stranger, and then tumbles into Regina’s arms. 

 

“How is Storybrooke? Are you traveling realms all the time? Have you fought anyone really scary? The wizard here is really scary, Regina. He almost grabbed me the other day and then Mom  _ slashed  _ him with her sword and he ran off–“ Regina looks at her in alarm, piecing together what she’d missed. Henry and Ella had only called for help because Lucy had been in danger. “Are you going to fight him together?” Lucy says, staring at them in awe. “Your magic is unstoppable when you work as a team.” 

 

“Slow down, kid,” Emma cautions, but she’s grinning, already indulgent of the granddaughter she’s just beginning to know. “Your Grandma Regina and I are going to take care of it.” 

 

“Not Grandma Regina,” Lucy corrects her. “Just Regina.” 

 

Emma wrinkles her nose. “Oh, so I get the name that makes me feel like an old lady, and Regina gets to be your buddy? Not happening.” She claps a hand onto Regina’s arm. “So you’re an old lady now. Embrace it.” She cocks her head. “You must be…what, eighty now? Ninety? And you’re still the most attractive person I know.” She winks, and Regina can feel a ridiculous flush hot on her cheeks. 

 

Henry groans as he dismounts from his horse. “Mom, please stop hitting on my other mom,” he says, and Emma is the one to pink now, clutching Hope close and turning away from them. “Which one of you sabotaged my horse?” 

 

“Emma,” Regina says immediately, and Henry squints at her with deep suspicion. Emma turns back to them to give Regina a dirty look. 

 

Lucy frowns at Henry. “Maybe I’m just the better rider,” she says, sounding very unconvincing. She sticks out her tongue. “You just don’t like getting beaten by a  _ girl _ .” 

 

“Have you met your mother? My moms?” Henry shoots back. “Being beaten by a girl is pretty much my state of being.” He narrows his eyes at Regina. She smiles back, innocent. 

 

“Gramma Regina didn’t do anything,” Lucy says smugly. Regina lets the  _ Gramma  _ go, if only because it kind of has a nice ring to it. “I’m just that good.” 

 

Ella has finally come to a halt, dismounting from her own horse to roll her eyes at both Lucy and Henry in exasperation. “Welcome back, Regina,” she says, and smiles at Emma with a hint of uncertainty. “Good to see you again.” 

 

“You, too.” Emma and Ella eye each other as though they don’t know what to make of each other. They’re more alike than they might think at first glance, but they’re both still wary, and Regina’s startled when Henry tugs her away from them. 

 

Emma throws her a helpless look, and Regina shrugs and lets Henry pull her onto the road, falling into step beside her after a few minutes. “So?” he says, looking down at her expectantly. “How is it living in the same town as them again?”

 

“Them who?” Regina says, cagey, and Henry gives her a  _ look _ . 

 

“You know who, Mom. You still look at each other like you’re hopelessly stupid in love,” he says bluntly, and he glances back to where Ella and Emma are speaking, Ella cooing over Hope and Emma talking more animatedly. “Is it easier now?” 

 

Regina sags. She’s gotten used to living with another Henry, one lost in his own world often enough that he isn’t quite as observant. This Henry knows her far too well. “I don’t think it’s ever going to be easier,” she admits. “But she has a baby now. It’s– it sets some boundaries we’ve never had.” She imagines that they might have had more nights together, had Hope never been born. She imagines that she might have singlehandedly ruined Emma’s marriage if she’d stayed in town, because Emma is too easily willing to give Regina anything she asks for, regardless of what effect it might have on her. 

 

Hope had forced them to do the right thing, and Regina is long past the days when she might have resented an infant. “And Hope is…she’s going to grow up to be just like her mother,” she says. It’s a constant reminder, that this child is so wholly Emma’s. “She looks just like her.” 

 

“Really?” Henry says, glancing back again. “When I first saw her, I thought she looked like you.” He shrugs, slipping an arm around her shoulders before Regina can object to that. “How about my little brother? How’s Ry doing?”

 

“He’s…he’s getting there,” Regina says. “It’s an adjustment–“ 

 

She stops. The sky is beginning to grey, and Regina twists around as Henry looks up in alarm. “Is that your wizard?” 

 

Henry is already jogging back to Ella and Lucy, scooping Lucy up into his arms. “We’re more vulnerable out in the open,” he calls. “Take my horse and ride.” He’s climbing onto Lucy’s, Ella mounting her own as a roll of thunder crashes across the sky. 

 

Hope begins to cry, and Emma slides her into the sling still strapped onto Regina’s front. “Can you ride like this?” 

 

“We can try,” Regina says, and she gives Emma a shove toward the horse as Emma shakes her head.

 

“I’m not slowing you down when you have Hope! I’ll be fine, I’ve just got to–“ 

 

Creatures descend from the sky, screeching as they dive at them, and the horse brays and flees.

 

* * *

 

There are dozens of them, and they’re unrelenting. Regina is too distracted to teleport away, too conscious of the baby snuggled to her to think of anything else. Emma is hacking at the creatures with a sword, beating them off as they caw and claw with too-long talons, and Regina lifts her hands to the sky and sends magic spiraling out at the bird-creatures at the same time. Hope is sandwiched safely between them, sobbing in little bursts, and Regina murmurs to her, “It’s okay. Your mama is right here. I’m here. We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” in a futile attempt to calm the baby. 

 

“Mama’s gonna kick some vulture ass,” Emma pants, just as one of the creatures bypasses her sword and claws a bloody line down Regina’s arm. 

 

Regina clenches her teeth at the pain, refusing to scream, but Emma’s eyes darken and she drops her sword, spreading her hands and firing out bolts of electricity from them. Regina hurls a red stream of fire into them, and she’s energized past the pain, brought to life by the intoxicating combination of Emma’s magic with hers. She has fought with others since Emma, has combined her magic with many, but never has it filled her with the kind of rush that Emma’s magic can.

 

“Together,” Regina says breathlessly, reaching past Hope as the baby raises her face, blinking sightlessly at the bright colors in the sky. Their magic is working, incinerating some creatures and warding off others, but it seems as though the deluge of creatures might never end. Regina’s arm is aching, and as she’s turned upward, hands raised to match Emma’s, another vulture-creature gets too close and bites her shoulder. 

 

She yelps in agony and Hope cries out louder, louder, and then a wave of purple magic sweeps from her to the sky. It’s  _ powerful _ , joining with Emma and Regina’s magic as though it was made for it and washing over Regina with the sheer energy behind it. It’s unyielding, a ballooning wave of magic that incinerates every creature in its path. 

 

It’s incredible, it’s unstoppable, and it’s unmistakably the color of Regina’s magic. Regina’s hands fall and she stares at Hope, her wounds forgotten and her heart pounding. Hope has closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by the vibrations of her own magic, and Regina croaks, “How…”

 

_ I thought she looked just like you _ . 

 

It’s impossible. There’s no  _ way _ , except for this girl who has Regina’s eyes and her nose and the same complexion as Regina. It’s impossible, except that she’d slept with Emma on their road trip and suddenly, Emma had been pregnant.

 

“It’s impossible,” she says aloud, sinking to the ground, and Emma drops to her knees in front of her. “It’s–“ 

 

Emma is shaking her head, her eyes bright and fierce and full of so much hope that Regina wants to sob. “The timing never  _ worked _ , Regina. I didn’t understand it. It didn’t work with him, but it works with you. That’s your magic. That’s your–“ 

 

“ _ No _ ,” Regina says urgently, and she already knows how this will end. If Emma believes that Hope might be hers, if Emma has any reason to doubt– she’ll tell Hook everything, and it’ll poison their marriage. Regina might despise Hook– might want him  _ gone _ , and with him all the damage he’d done to Emma over the years– but it’s been years and years of their relationship, of Emma insisting that she wants it and that this is her happy ending. “No, I  _ can’t  _ be, Emma–“ 

 

Emma strokes Hope’s dark hair. “It’s just your color,” she murmurs, and looks up, eyes blazing. “This is Storybrooke, Regina. There have been far more unbelievable things than two women conceiving a baby together. Do you–“ A shadow crosses her face, and Regina shakes her head hopelessly. “If you don’t  _ want  _ her, I’ll understand,” Emma says in a more subdued tone. “You have Henry…and Ry…and you didn’t ask for–“ 

 

God, it’s just too much. “ _ Emma _ ,” Regina says, beseeching, and she blinks away tears as they threaten to fall. “Emma, it’s not about that. I can’t  _ have  _ children.” She touches the baby sling with a trembling hand, runs her fingers along its fabric and wishes and hates in equal measure as Emma begins to object. “I took a potion years ago to make sure of that.” 

 

Emma’s mouth snaps shut, and Regina can see her as a dozen threads of restrained energy, as every protest suppressed at once. “Oh,” she says, and then her face grows stubborn again. “And you don’t think a magically conceived baby could trump that?” 

 

Regina shuts her eyes and takes a shuddering breath. “I think your  _ life _ trumps that,” she says. “You’ve been happy, Emma. You’re  _ married  _ and you have baby with him. Why would you want to throw that away over…over one night where we both needed a release?”  _ Where we both needed a release _ . The words taste like poison on her tongue, a lie that devalues one of the most precious memories she has. 

 

Emma recoils. “ _ A release _ ?” she echoes, and she sounds…almost angry–  _ no _ , disgusted. Regina should never have mentioned it. “I thought it meant something to you.” 

 

She can’t lie again, not to Emma, who always knows when she’s lying. “Of course it does,” Regina says pleadingly. “Because I care about you.” She grasps Emma’s hands and Emma pulls away abruptly, turning away from her to stare out into the distance. Regina watches her in despair. Emma deserves so much more than ruin, than a divorce and marital tension and suspicions about a baby who  _ can’t _ be Regina’s. “But this…letting one mistake define our lives from now on…this isn’t what we want.” 

 

“Apparently not,” Emma says coolly, but her lips are pressed together, her eyes dark and angry. “All we wanted was a  _ release _ , right?” 

 

It’s been over a decade from that night for Regina, and only a year for Emma, yet it still sends stinging pain through Regina when she says, “What else would it have been?” She can dream of Emma renouncing her marriage, of Emma rejecting the life she’s built to run off with her, of some magical twist where she could absolutely have had a baby– but none of it is real. Emma is impulsive and cares too much, and would throw aside her entire future if she thought it might be what Regina wants. And Emma would grow to resent her, which Regina couldn’t bear. 

 

“Fucker,” Emma says, and Regina flinches back.

 

“Emma-“ 

 

“Not you,” Emma says, and her voice is curt, businesslike. “The wizard who called those vulture creatures is here.” Regina follows her gaze, still blinking tears out of her eyes, and she sees a man standing at the edge of the forest.

 

“Your Majesty,” he says, mocking. “I didn’t think it was my place to interrupt.” 

 

Regina sneers at him and hurls a wave of magic without thinking. A glittering portal appears in front of him, catching the magic, and Regina drops it at once. “Firing magic into portals?” the wizard says in an oily tone. “Wouldn’t be a good look for the Protector of the Realms, now would it?” 

 

Emma draws her sword. “You’re full of it,” she snarls, and Regina lays a hand over the little tufts of brown hair that are visible above the baby sling and holds her other hand up to deflect what the wizard sends their way.

 

But the wizard tilts his head, sneering at Emma as he raises a staff that crackles with magic. “And who are you?” 

 

“I’m the one who protects the Protector,” Emma says, and the wizard fires a bolt of magic directly at Regina.

 

Regina throws out her hand, calling her magic to deflect it, but it’s too late. Emma has already leaped in front of her, throwing herself in the magic’s path, and the bolt of light smashes into her and hurls her backward, into the trees. “I’ll kill you,” Regina snarls, and she unleashes a crackle of lightning from the sky, the energy electrifying the wizard’s staff and making him spasm and scream until he withers away, toppling into the portal he’d made to protect himself.

 

“Emma!” Regina cries out, spinning around to find her. In the sling, Hope is crying. “Emma!” 

 

* * *

 

Ella bandages up what looks to be a broken arm, and Regina heals it once it’s set, along with the bruises that had come with the fall. Henry hovers, balancing Hope with one arm as he holds Emma’s hand with the opposite one, and Regina holds back every single thing she wants to rant about what an  _ idiot _ Emma is.

 

She’d had it under control and they’d been  _ fighting _ , if Emma could stop being such a damned  _ hero  _ for one  _ second _ –

 

Emma lets out a moan and Regina suppresses a sob. Henry’s hand is on hers, suddenly, a small comfort when she wants to scream in frustration and Emma  _ still  _ hasn’t opened her eyes. “I should…I should take her home,” Regina says, her voice hoarse and strained. “She’ll want to be home.” 

 

“Because Killian is known throughout the realms for his bedside manner?” Henry says skeptically, but Regina can’t fight him right now, can only whisk Emma away to the nearest portal and bring her back to Storybrooke.

 

She holds her in her arms, a little magic lightening the load for her, and Henry slips Hope into the baby sling, sandwiching her between Emma’s body and Regina. “We should come with you,” he says, eyeing her worriedly, but she shakes her head.

 

“Emma will be fine. You need to keep an eye on your book in case that wizard returns,” she says. She has a duty that she can’t ignore here, and Emma is  _ fine _ . She’ll be back to herself as soon as she wakes up. 

 

She’s moaning a little more when Regina teleports to her front stoop, hitting the doorbell and leaning against the wall to help her support the woman in her arms. Hope gurgles happily, smiling sleepily up at Regina, and Regina smiles sleepily back despite herself. 

 

It’s almost a relief when Hook finally opens the door.  _ Almost _ . “What the bloody hell have you done to my wife?” he demands, his eyes flashing, and Regina can already feel the tic in her jaw at  _ wife _ . 

 

“She did it to herself,” she snaps back, shoving past him to lay Emma down on the couch. “She’s fine. It was just a bad fall. She’ll wake up and be sore for a day and that’ll be it.” There’s a baby swing against the wall, a playmat on the floor, and a framed photograph of Emma, Hook, Hope, and Ry on the wall. Regina swallows back bile. 

 

Hope fusses, sensing Regina’s sudden tension, and Regina lifts her out of her sling and coos to her, evening her breathing out until Hope is drifting off. “Your mama’s going to be back in just a little while,” she hums, rocking the baby. “Fresh and safe and cranky that she missed all the action.” 

 

Hook watches them from the doorway, his eyes dark, and he snaps, “You have some nerve,  _ Majesty _ .” He says it like a snarl, like an insult, and Regina doesn’t budge. “My wife isn’t your simpering bodyguard anymore.” 

 

“Tell that to her,” Regina shoots back, eyes dark with revulsion. “I didn’t ask for her to come.” 

 

“You didn’t stop her,” Hook snarls. They might play nice most of the time for Emma’s sake, but there is never any doubt in Regina’s mind exactly how much they despise each other. She finds herself missing the Hook she’d known from the other realm, principled and calmer and far less aggressive. This Hook sees her only as a competitor in a fight he’s already won. “I’m sure it was charming when she did this for you in the past, but things have changed now. My wife is a  _ mother _ now.”

 

“Yes, I can see how Emma has suddenly become a mother in the past few months,” Regina says dryly. 

 

Hook sneers at her, missing the point entirely. “Emma has a family to take care of now. I know you want nothing more than to tear us apart, to rip away this baby’s mother–“ 

 

“That’s  _ not _ –“

 

“Isn’t it time you stopped tagging along with us, Majesty?” he says, his words biting. “Isn’t it time you moved on from your lovesick pining and accepted the family that  _ my wife  _ chose? Who’s going to take care of Hope if Emma  _ dies _ because she was busy trying to save you from yourself? Who’s going to explain to Hope what happened to her mother?” 

 

He wields Hope like a weapon, uses her to lash out at Regina until it hurts, and he does so deftly. Regina rocks the sleeping baby, her eyes trained on Hook’s, Emma still passed out beside her. “You said it yourself. Emma makes her own choices.” 

 

“She made the choice to have a baby with  _ me _ ,” Hook snaps. “And right up until you returned, she was  _ settled _ . She was at home with our daughter and she certainly wasn’t running off on bloody  _ quests _ . She was where she belongs.  _ You _ caused this. You hurt my wife. And you don’t even give a damn, do you? You’ll keep doing it if it hurts my family.” He’s relentless, and he sees when he’s hit a nerve and keeps prodding. “Because you don’t actually care about what’s best for my wife, do you? You only care about what serves you most.” 

 

“You’re full of it,” Regina bites out. Heat is rising through her and her fists are clenched, and she forces herself to breathe evenly to keep Hope calm. “And I didn’t ask Emma to come with me or throw herself in front of–“ She can see the smug superiority on his face and finishes, “The person holding her  _ daughter _ .” 

 

Hook glowers at her. Regina says curtly, “I’m leaving.” She doesn’t offer him Hope, and he doesn’t ask for her. She should– a part of her wonders why she’s so unwilling to return his spawn to him, but another part of her is stubborn in her refusal to hand over this child to someone so unequipped for her. 

 

Hook only has eyes for Emma when Regina finds a bottle in the fridge and a diaper bag in the front hall closet and leaves the house, and Hope fusses softly against her as Regina looks back once at the sleeping blonde, her heart aching.

 

* * *

 

Ry is unamused when she picks him up. “I’m sixteen, Mom,” he reminds her as they exit the portal. “I’m a Storybrooke deputy. I’ve been a  _ king _ . I don’t need a babysitter.” 

 

“We didn’t think you did,” she says soothingly, leading the way into the house. “We just didn’t know how long we’d be gone.” 

 

Ry sighs, glancing over at Hope. “And Mom’s okay?” 

 

“She’ll wake up in the morning with a few painkillers and she’ll be in perfect shape for a lecture,” Regina says, rolling her eyes. Ry grins, scooping Hope out of the sling so Regina can finally unstrap it. 

 

Her back has been straining for hours, and she lies back in her bed while Ry sits at the edge of it, feeding the baby. He chatters a bit about Snow and David before lapsing into silence again, leaving Regina to her thoughts. 

 

She sends a text to Emma.  _ Let me know when you’re up. I have a package for you. _ She takes a picture of Ry with Hope and sends it, followed by a second text.  _ And a lecture. _

 

There’s no response yet, and Regina sighs to herself. Hope begins fussing again once her bottle is done, and Ry says, “Can you magic up a crib or something?” 

 

“Bring her here. This used to work with…with your big brother,” she says, making a face at that rather inaccurate descriptor. She takes Hope into her arms, pulling the blanket over them both and holding Hope tightly until she’s encased in a cocoon of warmth. “He had terrible colic for the first ten months of his life. He’d only calm down when I was holding him or when I’d drive him around town.” A smile is creeping up her face at the memories, unbidden. 

 

Ry is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Mom used to say that I was so overwhelmed at being born that I cried for a full year.” He smiles, wistful. “There were no cars in my realm, though. Mom would walk me through the gardens and I’d quiet down. Sometimes we’d sleep out there together on one of the couches.” 

 

“Do you…?” Regina begins, and then she stops herself. As much as she wonders about how Ry has adapted to a drastically different Emma, it isn’t fair to bring it up. 

 

Ry misunderstands her question. “I do miss it,” he murmurs. “Sometimes. But I think…I don’t want to be a king. I want to have my family and I want to fight the bad guys and I don’t need anything else. So this is…good, right?” 

 

It emerges uncertain, this Ry still uncomfortable in his new role, still a surly teenager at his core even when he’s being quietly helpful. But he’s trying, and she says gently, “It’s okay if it isn’t, Ry. We just want you to be happy.” 

 

Ry studies her for a moment, thoughtful, and he says, “Are you?” 

 

“Of course,” Regina says immediately. “I have family, and I have a…a role here, and friends…” Ry is still watching her, his brow furrowed, and she can’t think of anything more to say about it. “Tell me about your realm,” she says, surrendering. Hope is a warm weight on her arm, and she can feel drowsiness creeping back up, overwhelming her after a long day. 

 

“It was pretty boring before you came,” Ry says, but he begins to paint a picture for her of an Enchanted Forest much like her own had been, but quieter. Idyllic, where peace is made through negotiations and the White Kingdom had been strong enough that it had ruled over all the lesser kingdoms. Regina begins to drift off, Ry’s voice lulling her to sleep, and the voice begins to fade away.

 

There’s a gentle finger against her cheek, a low, “Goodnight, Mom,” and she remembers nothing more until she opens her eyes in the morning and finds Emma staring at her.

 

She blinks, uncertain if she’s still dreaming, but Emma is still there, lying on her bed with her eyes open and fixed on Regina. There’s a smile playing at the edges of her lips, and she says, “I can’t believe Hope slept through the night for the first time and I wasn’t even there to enjoy it.” 

 

Regina blinks again. “Emma?” she says dumbly. 

 

“Hi,” Emma says, and now it’s a full-blown smirk. “I’m here for the lecture.”

 

_ That _ jerks Regina back into wakefulness, and she glares at Emma hard. “Of all the  _ idiotic, _ foolhardy moves– how am I supposed to take you anywhere?” she demands, and Emma laughs.  _ Laughs _ ! How dare she.

 

“Are you going to tell me that I can’t leave the house anymore because Hope needs a mother?” she says, stretching out comfortably on the other end of Regina’s bed. “I’ve already gotten  _ that  _ lecture, and it wasn’t pretty.” She scowls. “You know, there was a time when being the savior felt like a burden. Nowadays it just feels like something else that’s been taken away from me.” 

 

Regina’s outrage fades, leaving only tired compassion. “You’ve really been feeling trapped, haven’t you?” 

 

“Not as much anymore,” Emma admits, sliding her hand over Hope’s little lump in the blanket to find Regina’s hand. “Not since you came home.” There’s a light in her eyes sometimes that feels like it’s Regina’s, like Regina might be the only one to bring it out in her. Which is utterly self-indulgent, a fantasy, and enough that Regina can’t look away. “I had to sneak out,” Emma murmurs, her fingers drawing patterns into Regina’s palm. “Killian was so  _ angry _ …I’ve found that the best thing to do when he’s in a mood is to go upstairs and wait for him to cool down.” 

 

“Emma…” 

 

Emma shakes her head immediately. “It’s fine. It really is,” she says, and she looks contemplative, lost in her thoughts and not entirely sure that she wants them. “I just…I’ve figured out that I don’t really like how I get when he’s angry.” 

 

It doesn’t seem fine, but Regina has lost all authority to say so since that night on Henry’s college trip. “How is that?” 

 

“Meek,” Emma says, and her eyes are solemn when Regina’s eyes fly up to hers. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a holdover from…from when we were Dark Ones. I just feel like…” She falls silent, and Regina laces her fingers between Emma’s, holds her hand tight and feels a lump in her throat.

 

“Want me to take him out?” she offers, and she’s more serious than she should be. “We can say it was a heart attack. It wouldn’t be  _ wrong _ –“ Emma’s already laughing, the light returned to her eyes, and Regina keeps going in a valiant attempt to keep it there. “I think Hope would take the fall for us. No one would doubt it if we said it was because of the terrible name you’ve foisted onto her–“ 

 

“Regina,” Emma says, her voice so warm that it seems to seep through Regina, putting her at ease when she’d been so tense before. “I really, really missed you.” Their fingers are still interlaced, Emma’s thumb stroking Regina’s hand with quiet affection, and Regina is overwhelmed with affection. “I’m sorry about yesterday, in the woods. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “It wasn’t your fault. We were both–” She can’t talk about this, not without revealing too much. This is her penance. She’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted– family, friends, love and validation– and her only punishment is to spend a lifetime with Emma Swan, doing the right thing when every other part of her is screaming to chase after the one thing she still needs. “We should have talked about that night a long time ago,” she admits reluctantly. “It hasn’t been healthy to let it fester.” 

 

“We’re always better off when we’re yelling at each other instead of letting things build up,” Emma says teasingly. She grows serious. “I guess…I didn’t want anything to change for us,” she murmurs. “But it did anyway, didn’t it? You left.” 

 

It isn’t an accusation, but a quiet affirmation.  _ You left _ . Not because Henry had needed his mother after years on his own, but because Regina couldn’t bear to be around Emma anymore. Regina nods, short and abrupt, Emma’s hand warm on hers. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispers again. “I know…I know that night wasn’t…wasn’t romantic. I wasn’t trying to make it into something it wasn’t yesterday. I just…I thought it was a little more than just  _ unwinding _ , you know?” Regina stays very still, her heart twisting at  _ something it wasn’t _ . Emma’s hand slips out of hers, moving to stroke her cheek. “Because I care about you more than…pretty much anyone except our–“ She stumbles. “My kids.” 

 

The room is beginning to feel overwhelming, like Regina might drown in this moment, in this existence, forever. She chokes out a, “You do remember that you’re married,” and hates herself for it, for this continuing  _ redemption _ and what it entails, but Emma just rolls her eyes.

 

“Regina,” she says simply, cupping Regina’s cheek, and they remain in silence, staring at each other with eyes that can speak volumes but never enough.

 

* * *

 

It’s a while until Hope wakes up, crying out and quieting when Emma lifts her. “She’s hungry,” she says. “Do you mind– is there somewhere–“ 

 

There’s the big comfy chair in the living room, and Emma settles down there with a light blanket and nurses Hope while Regina makes breakfast. She goes with pancakes, sprinkling in chocolate chips for Emma’s sweet tooth. 

 

There’s a knock at the door, and Regina tenses and expects the worst. But it isn’t  _ the worst _ , who remains oblivious to his wife’s departure. It’s Henry– the original Henry, looking windswept and worried– with a box of donuts. “Is Mom here? How’s she doing?” 

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Emma says irritably from the living room. “No one had to make a fuss about this at all.” Her irritation fades when she sees the donut box, and she immediately recants. “Actually, I’m at death’s door. I can feel my body giving out,” she says, groaning in mock agony. “My last wish is for Regina to let me eat those donuts on the couch–“ 

 

“A tragic loss, wasn’t she?” Regina says briskly, snatching the box from Henry and bringing it to the kitchen where it belongs. She raises her voice. “Ry! Breakfast!” 

 

The younger Ry stumbles downstairs, squinting groggily at his counterpart. “Oh,” he says. “It’s me.” 

 

“But you with donuts,” the older Henry says smugly, giving the younger one a little shove. “I always knew I’d be a great big brother.” 

 

“Ugh,” Ry mumbles, but he snags a donut and settles down next to his brother, taking Hope from Emma when she drags herself into the kitchen. 

 

Regina flips the pancakes, takes out four plates, and then turns around. Henry is regaling them with a story of Lucy’s latest mishap while Ry interjects playfully, bouncing Hope lightly on his lap. Emma is sitting between Henrys, cross-legged on a chair and leaning forward to listen to their sons, and there’s an empty seat at the table across from her where a cruller is waiting for Regina. It’s a scene from someone else’s life, from a fantasy she’d never been foolish enough to entertain, and she’s wordless with longing at the sight of it. 

 

It doesn’t last. It’s one perfect meal, the five of them a family, and then Ry says, “I’d better get to the station,” and Henry says, “I’m going to run upstairs to pick up some of the stuff I left here,” and her sons are gone, leaving Regina with Hope curled up against her and Emma at the table, watching them with a gaze Regina can’t decipher.

 

“I should go, too,” Emma says regretfully, reaching for the baby. Regina hands her over with reluctance. She’s always had a weakness for children, but she’s never thought of herself as overly attached to babies. Only with Henry had she been so awash with affection that she hadn’t ever wanted to let him go.

 

But Hope…maybe it’s only that she holds a little piece of Emma within her. Maybe she really is just hopeless for Emma Swan and her family. But handing her to Emma and knowing they’re about to leave wrenches at something within Regina that she’d thought was long gone, and she has to force a smile onto her face as Emma lifts the baby up to eye level.

 

Hope’s eyes focus on Emma, a smile splitting her little face at Emma’s grin. “How about it, kiddo?” Emma says in a singsong voice. “Let’s go home and convince your daddy that we can all pretend that yesterday didn’t exist.” 

 

_ Your daddy _ . It’s…it’s wrong,  _ vile _ , and her reaction isn’t warranted but still feels instinctive. Regina flinches visibly, bile in her throat, and Emma looks at her in alarm. “Regina?”

 

Of  _ course  _ Hook is Hope’s father. She knows it consciously, had resigned herself to it, and she doesn’t know why now it’s suddenly leaving a new bitter taste in her mouth. She sighs, and sees Emma’s knowing face, and knows that Emma knows nothing at all.  _ Good _ . “Why couldn’t you have married someone I  _ like _ , like…” she starts grouchily and then pauses.

 

Emma waits patiently, tilting her head in amusement as Regina racks her brain for someone she likes who isn’t related or in a relationship. “…Geppetto?” she finishes. 

 

“You’re right,” Emma says gravely. “Geppetto’s a good match. Younger than my usual, I think– how many years were you in Henry’s realm again?” she says, which is  _ definitely  _ a dig at Regina’s age, and she glowers. “And very handy. I do love a spouse who can put together a crib because we both know I’m hopeless at that.” 

 

“He has an established business,” Regina says primly. “And the first curse gave him memories of a late wife so you know that he’s carried a successful marriage before.” 

 

“I’m leaving Killian,” Emma announces grandly, and it’s  _ absurd  _ how much Regina’s heart leaps at a  _ joke _ . “Do  you think Geppetto has a thing for Granny? Because she’s a mean shot with a crossbow  _ and  _ she can make lasagna. I can’t compete with that. Maybe I should marry Granny,” she says thoughtfully. “Or anyone who can make lasagna like–“ 

 

“Goodbye, Emma,” Regina says, placing her hands on Emma’s shoulder and steering her to the door before this joke goes too far. 

 

Emma pouts, but she pecks Regina’s cheek and then blushes. “I’ll see you later, okay?” she says, and Regina can only stare at her and give her a short, stunned nod.

 

Emma continues to be…someone Regina craves and can never have. But as she disappears in a cloud of magic, it isn’t Emma that Regina’s staring at, it’s Hope, her eyes fixed on Regina’s face with the same intensity as she’d looked at her mother.

 

_ Her mother. _

 

_ Your daddy _ , she remembers again, and the nausea that had accompanied it. She has to accept this, has to deal with the fact that sharing a child is the kind of development that solidifies Hook’s role in Emma’s life. That solidifies Hook’s role in  _ Hope _ ’s life, and she blinks back foolish, bitter tears at that realization. Hook may have little interest in Hope now, but she’s going to grow up and start seeing him as a father, as someone she belongs to. 

 

And Regina will be nothing more than another relative come to spoil her and visit and leave.

 

She wants so desperately for her instincts to be correct this time, for the impossible to be real. But it  _ isn’t _ , and she has to accept that. She made sure of that decades ago, never anticipating her world changing so drastically. 

 

Hadn’t she?

 

“You okay, Mom?” It’s Henry, a stack of old games that he’d loved as a child under his arm. “You look kind of dazed.” 

 

Regina looks at him, at her son, Author and explorer of realms, and takes a breath before she says, “Can you find a realm for me?” 


	3. Chapter 3

Henry promises her that he’ll look into it, and he watches with understanding when he can’t possibly understand why she wants to find a specific realm containing–

 

Regina thrusts it aside for now. There is no reason to obsess when she doesn’t even have the answers she wants, when even having those answers won’t solve anything for her. What she can do is teach herself to savor the life she has now, warts and all.

 

Emma is more and more present, dropping in at lunch and sitting with her at Granny’s in the morning and arriving without comment after dinner to flop onto the couch in the study. “I have nothing to do at the station,” Emma complains, sipping at non-alcoholic cider. “I do paperwork, which I  _ hate _ , and pretend that I don’t notice that Killian instantly volunteers himself or Ry for anything that looks remotely interesting.” She swallows back some cider as those it’s still spiked and then looks at it in disgust. “The only fun part of my job is dealing with the hardass mayor–“ 

 

“Watch it, Swan,” Regina says in a mock-threatening tone, sipping her own cider contentedly. “Are you going to take a more active role once Hope starts with a babysitter?” 

 

Emma heaves a sigh. “Killian doesn’t want her to have one,” she says, despondent. “Not until she’s gotten all her vaccinations. He says he doesn’t trust anyone but me with her. It’s not that I  _ want  _ Hope to be so far away all day, but I don’t think it’s good for either of us to be cooped up in the station all day.” 

 

She looks guilty at even admitting it, and Regina remembers well the fears of being a working mother, of every moment when she had wanted to prioritize something other than Henry seeming like a personal failing. Emma is even more prone to wanderlust than Regina, and she must be suffering like this, resigned to motherhood and little more. “You’re welcome to leave her with me, if you’re worried,” she says. “I can set up a little baby-friendly play area in my office that’s been sterilized and doesn’t have Leroy’s vomit all over the floor.” 

 

“My hero,” Emma says, grinning, but there’s a desperate gratitude in her eyes that she can’t mask. So Regina puts together a play area and settles Hope in it more days than not, letting her nap through meetings and brighten when Regina keeps her in her arms while browsing on her computer. Emma bursts in multiple times a day, which is another perk, though Regina won’t admit that one.

 

There is something so endearing about seeing Emma with a baby, stretched out on the floor beside Hope with her heart in her eyes. Hope is burbling now as she grows, rolling over and squirming and making it halfway across the room before she notices what she’s done, and she pulls happily at Regina’s necklace and chews on Emma’s fingers and smiles all the time. 

 

And it’s an imperfect kind of perfect, right up until the night when Hope is five months old and Emma calls Regina, her voice strained and apologetic. “I’m so sorry about this,” she says in a low voice, and then hesitates. “No. I can’t– I gotta go–“ 

 

“Emma,” Regina cuts her off, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

 

Another reluctant moment, and then, “My mom just canceled on us for tonight. Neal has the flu and Ry is out on patrol duty. And you know how Killian is about babysitters.” Emma sounds tense, regretful, and it takes Regina a moment to parse what it is that Emma’s saying.

 

When she figures it out, it lands with a  _ thud _ . “It’s date night,” she says flatly. “You need me to watch Hope for date night.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, and she sounds near-tears. Killian is speaking in the background, his voice irritable, and Emma is stretched between them so tautly that Regina can imagine her close to shattering, desperate to try to please them both. 

 

She doesn’t want to think about any of this, about Emma with  _ him  _ or Emma torn, and she clears her throat and says, “Of course I’ll take Hope. You deserve a night out, Emma.” And because nobility only gets her so far, she adds, “But shouldn’t your night off be away from  _ all  _ the children?” 

 

Emma laughs, still watery, and says, “Stop,” but it’s with so much emotion that Regina drinks it in, wants desperately to… 

 

_ No _ .

 

Emma arrives at her door with Hope cradled in her arms, wearing a tight black dress that has Regina gaping at her legs before she remembers to look up. “Oh, there you are,” Emma says, grinning, but she still looks anxious beneath the smile, uncertain of where they stand.

 

Behind her, Hook lurks, his eyes dark and smug on Regina. “You can keep her overnight, can’t you?” he drawls, and Emma twists around to look at him in betrayal.

 

“ _ Killian _ !” 

 

Regina doesn’t budge an inch. Her face feels like it’s made of stone, her heart pounding in her chest, her magic threatening to emerge. “Have a good time, Emma,” she says, taking Hope from Emma’s arms and retrieving the diaper bag. She closes the door gently before Emma can respond and sets Hope down on the floor in the living room for a moment. She lifts a photo frame from the foyer table, hurls it at the mirror to cracks both with a satisfying  _ crash! _ , and then repairs them with a wave of her hand. Finally, she retreats back to the sofa in the living room, curling up around Hope and struggling to think of anything but her mother.

 

She falls asleep with her cheeks tearstained and her heart aching, and she wakes up to little nails scraping against her lip, seizing onto it and pulling it down. Hope is watching her with curiosity as her eyes open, and Regina kisses her brow and tugs out her phone to check the time. 

 

It’s been almost two hours since Emma had left with Hook, and Regina sighs. It’s late for dinner, but she makes some rice, flavors it and eats it as Hope picks at pieces with her fingers. She fists some into her mouth, gumming happily at them. “I think your mama has been giving you the jarred food,” Regina murmurs, wrinkling her nose. “How about we boil something a little more interesting for you?” 

 

She puts an assortment of vegetables in a pot, humming as she works, and Hope attempts to gnaw at a carrot. “First we have to make it soft,” Regina chides her, and only then does she hear a breath of laughter from behind them. 

 

Emma is in the doorway. Regina jumps, staring at her, and Emma explains, “I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake Hope up if she were sleeping. Sorry if I surprised you.” She bites back a smile. “You were being so  _ cute _ .” 

 

Regina folds her arms. “Absolutely not.” 

 

“I can’t believe you use your mayor voice for Hope,” Emma says, sneaking up behind her to grab a slice of carrot from the pot. “She’s never going to be intimidated by you,  _ ever _ .” 

 

Regina scoffs. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now? Did the pirate get kicked out of the restaurant over the odor?” 

 

Emma rolls her eyes at her. “We ate. Then I came here. He was being a dick earlier.” Regina passes Hope to her, and Emma makes wide-eyed faces at Hope until Hope begins to let out her squeaky gasping giggle. “He just…he said what he did to hurt you. I didn’t really want to spend any more time with him than I had to.” 

 

Regina stares at her. It’s impossible to sort out her feelings on  _ that _ , not when Emma is right here in the room and there’s too much left unspoken. She’s left at a loss, Emma watching with eyes that comprehend too much, and she finally says slowly, “Why would it hurt me?” 

 

Emma shifts forward, slipping an arm around Regina in a halfway hug. “Regina,” she breathes mournfully, and Regina is blinking away tears again. 

 

Emma doesn’t say anything more, and Regina is grateful for it. There isn’t a way to express this  _ thing  _ they both know, not without them falling into a hole they can’t claw their way out of. Instead, it is said without saying anything at all, and Regina puts up Hope’s food while Emma nurses her quietly on the couch.

 

“Does he know you’re here?” Regina says when Emma’s done. 

 

“I didn’t tell him,” Emma murmurs. “But yeah, probably.” They exchange a look rife with tension, with words unspoken that can never be expressed. “I don’t know what else he expected,” Emma says, sighing. “I  _ know  _ that you two hate each other for valid reasons–“ 

 

“What’s valid about him hating me?” Regina says, outraged.

 

Emma quirks an eyebrow. “You and I in a motel room in the middle of Henry’s graduation trip?” Regina huffs. “And…I don’t know. You have no idea how much I missed you last year.” Emma curls up around Hope more tightly. “He wasn’t wild about that.” 

 

“He’s so–“ Regina cuts herself off, glaring at her knees for a moment. “We’re  _ friends _ ,” she says instead. It’s crude and simplistic and not nearly enough to define what they are to each other. “Why would he be threatened by that? You were happy back when I was in town, I remember that.” 

 

“I was happy  _ because  _ you were in town,” Emma corrects her, and Regina stares at her, at a loss for words. “I was there when you got home, did you know that?” 

 

“You were with the baby,” Regina says. Emma hadn’t been there, not when she’d brought Ry back and not when she’d returned from packing up her place in Hyperion Heights for good. Snow and David had come out with Ry to greet her and there had been dwarves and other townspeople present, but Emma hadn’t arrived to see her until the day of the coronation. She’d been hurt, but she’d understood, considering how she’d left town.

 

They hadn’t been capable of saying a proper goodbye then, either.

 

“No,” Emma says. “I had brought her with me when I’d heard that a portal was opening.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I had a rough pregnancy, you know? Hope was fine but it was…I don’t know if they were mood swings or depression. I spent a lot of time just…miserable and missing you.” She laughs ruefully as Regina stares at her in consternation. “Killian loved it, I think. He used to say that my pregnancy had made our relationship better than ever because I spent so much time just…crying into his shoulder.” 

 

“Emma,” Regina whispers, her heart aching for her. 

“It wasn’t much better when Hope was born,” Emma admits. “I didn’t feel like I could  _ do  _ it, and Killian loves her, of course, but he won’t even stop wearing that damned hook–“ She stops herself visibly, stroking Hope’s hair and looking back down. “And then one day you walked out of that portal like you’d just changed the fabric of the universe and were pretty smug about it and…I don’t know, I turned around and went straight to Archie’s office. Everything felt suddenly simpler, I guess.” She shrugs, self-conscious. 

 

Regina watches her, her breathing shallow as new regrets wash over her. She’d run, and Emma had needed her. She’d been gone for selfish reasons and Emma had been  _ hurting _ , and she hadn’t been there for her. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, a small excuse that can never fix how she’d failed. “I’m sorry.” 

 

It isn’t the right thing to say, somehow, because Emma’s eyes darken and she looks frustrated. “I wish–“ Emma stops, knitting her fingers into each other.

 

“You wish?” Regina prompts helplessly, struggling to find the magic words that might fix whatever had gone wrong. 

 

“I wish you talked to me,” Emma says, sinking back into her chair in defeat. “You used to confide in me, remember? You used to be the one who’d initiate these terrible feelings-y conversations.” Regina stares at her, uncomprehending, and Emma shrugs moodily. “You stopped talking about yourself after that night,” she mutters, and she looks embarrassed. “I wish you hadn’t.”

 

She’s right, though Regina had never thought about it before. It had become a necessity to shut down her feelings after what had gone on between them, the only way that she could protect Emma from their  _ thing  _ exploding. Regina’s feelings are unfair, will overturn everything that Emma had built and put her in an impossible situation, but she still can’t say no to Emma. “What do you want to know?” she whispers.

 

Emma shrugs again. “Anything. Everything. Tell me about Hyperion Heights, about our son’s wife, about how it felt to be fighting in a resistance against an evil queen in the Enchanted Forest. Tell me what made you happy and what didn’t,” she says pleadingly. “Just…I want to know  _ you _ , Regina. I want to know about everything I’ve missed.” 

 

“Tell me about what I missed, too,” Regina counters, and Emma smiles painfully, holding a sleeping Hope close. 

 

“It’s a deal,” she says.

 

* * *

 

So they talk, and they talk, and Regina tries haltingly to open up again to Emma. She skirts all mentions of  _ feelings _ , of the times she’d seen Henry happy with Ella and envied them for her missing best friend. She doesn’t tell her about the memories Roni had had of heartache that had made her solidly uninterested in romance, and she doesn’t tell her about casting a curse and wishing desperately for Emma to come to break it. There is enough to tell without crossing those lines.

 

They spend night after night rehashing all the time they’d missed together, telling silly little stories and confessing their worst fears. Hope sleeps over so often that Regina sets up a pack ‘n play and a changing table in the spare bedroom, and it slowly becomes populated with other things: a stuffed bear on the shelf that Regina had picked up at the corner store; a swing that she’d found in the attic that still runs perfectly; Henry’s old baby toys for Hope to chew on. 

 

Hope gets a tooth, then a second one. Her squirming is beginning to look like crawling, and Regina has to chase her around her office sometimes, phone trapped between her ear and her shoulder as she speaks to the commissioner and tugs Hope away from choking hazards simultaneously. “Yes, I’ll get it done. Excuse me,” she says suddenly. Her mirror is shimmering, and she waves a hand in front of it. “I have an urgent call.” She lifts Hope up and hangs up the phone as Henry’s face comes into view on the mirror. 

 

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Hope,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought Mom was going to get a babysitter once she hit six months.” 

 

Regina curls her lip at the thought of it. “This arrangement works so far. I don’t see why we have to change it.” 

 

“How does Killian feel about it?” Henry says innocently.

 

Regina gives him a  _ look _ . Hook hasn’t made any secret of how much he dislikes it, but Emma has been insistent at least that if the baby is going to be with one of them, then she should be with Regina. It’s still a daily quarrel between them that Emma wants to go back to active sheriffing, and Hook has shelved the battle over Hope in favor of the battle over that. “Did you call for a reason, Henry?” 

 

“Yeah,” he says, holding up the book in his hands. It’s one of the Author’s books, and Regina squints to read the writing. “I haven’t found that realm for you yet, but I did find reference to that wizard again. He’s been wreaking havoc in some realms, but their Emmas and Reginas and others have been chasing him off so far. I’ll let you know when I get an idea of where he’s going next.” 

 

“Does the book give you a name?” Regina wonders. One of her favorite parts of this new role that she has is working in sync with Henry, his writing pointing her in whichever direction she’s needed. Emma pesters him sometimes about coming back home, and Regina likes the idea of it, of Henry having an alcove in her office and Lucy playing with Hope in the garden. 

 

Henry shakes his head. “No name, no motives. He’s definitely after something, though.” He lapses into silence, and then says abruptly. “How’s Mom? We haven’t spoken in a few days, but she seems stressed.” 

 

“She’s been arguing with Hook,” Regina admits. “I think she’s going to lose her mind if she’s cooped up in the station any longer.” 

 

There are some parents who are content to stay at home with their new children, who can easily transition from life before child to a life where the child is everything. Regina had been there, had been fortunate enough to be able to bring Henry to work without any protest from the cursed town. But Emma is too restless, itching for a fight or for some action, and it’s becoming more and more clear from her stories about the year that Regina had been away that Emma doesn’t cope well with being held back. 

 

And Hook takes it as a personal attack. Regina is outside the station one afternoon with Hope, ready to drop her off before a town meeting, when she pauses at the shouting coming from inside. Hope whimpers and Regina rocks her gently, taking a step back. “I don’t think it’s fair to ask that of Regina every day!” It’s Hook who’s bellowing it, and Regina raises an eyebrow and leans against the wall. “She’s  _ your  _ daughter! She should be with you!” 

 

“She  _ is  _ with me for eighty percent of the day,” Emma snaps back, exasperation in her voice. “But for that last twenty percent– I’m not asking to jump realms for a year and leave her with Regina. I just want to  _ patrol _ . Fight a few bad guys. Leave this fucking station.” Regina can see her through the door’s window, gesturing in frustration at the room around her. “I’m the  _ savior _ . I’m supposed to be  _ helping people _ .” 

 

“That’s Her Majesty’s job now,” Hook says, sneering as he says Regina’s title. “She should be good for  _ something _ . The town doesn’t need you anymore. But our daughter does.” 

 

Emma sags, but she doesn’t give up. “Killian,” she says, her voice beseeching. “If you don’t want Hope to stay with Regina, then you can look after her while I go out.” 

 

Hook scoffs. “She needs a mother’s touch,” he says at once. “She needs  _ you _ , and I can’t believe you’d abandon her just to go for some bloody joyride where you could be  _ killed _ and leave her without a mother–“ 

 

“Are you…” Emma’s words are slow, her eyes are darkening and her hands clenching at her sides, and Regina can sense an explosion in the making. “Are you deliberately using Hope to keep me from patrolling?” she says, and her voice is dangerous. “Is that what she is to you? A tool to manipulate me?” 

 

This is the point when Regina would expect Hook to grow conciliatory, for the conflict to be diffused so it doesn’t go too far. Ry is in the corner of the room, eyes fixed on a textbook while Emma and Hook argue, and Regina knows that they won’t–

 

She’d thought it too soon. Hook whirls around, throwing his hands up in the air. “Typical!” he snarls. “The moment you don’t get your way, suddenly everyone else is the villain. Far be it from anyone to express an opinion contrary to yours!” He’s loud, louder than he’d been before, his eyes blazing with fury. “The  _ savior _ ,” he sneers mockingly. “How often are you going to use that excuse for why you’re putting Hope second–“ 

 

Regina expects Emma to shout again, for this fight to reach a blinding crescendo, when she’s reminded of something that Emma had once told her.  _ I just…I’ve figured out that I don’t really like how I get when he’s angry.  _

 

_ Meek _ , she’d defined it as, and Regina can see Emma’s fists begin to unfold, her shoulders dropping and her eyes turn round and vulnerable. It’s too much to witness, and Regina shifts forward without a second thought, pushing open the door to the station. “Am I interrupting anything?” she says pleasantly.

 

Ry mouths  _ about time _ , looking very irritated with all of them. Hook glowers at her, and Emma shakes her head and storms out of the station. 

 

Regina follows behind her, Hope mumbling nonsensical syllables at the sight of her mother. “Emma–“ 

 

Emma twists around, and Regina prepares for the remainder of Emma’s anger to be foisted onto her. But Emma’s eyes are weary now, not angry. “All the books say that couples fight much more after they have kids. But I already  _ have  _ a kid. Three kids! It’s not  _ fair _ ,” she says helplessly. Hope stretches out her hands to Emma and Emma takes her absently. She stretches her arms back to Regina, happily passed between them as they talk. 

 

“I can’t speak for Hope,” Regina says delicately, passing her back. Hope giggles and reaches for Regina again. “But if I could, I’m fairly certain that she’d say that she wants you to be a  _ person _ , not just her mother. That way lies a lot of future resentment that she doesn’t deserve.” She contemplates Hope’s face for a moment, those oddly familiar brown eyes and the smile that is so utterly Emma. “Hook is…from the Enchanted Forest, with all the old-fashioned thinking that that entails.” 

 

“So are you,” Emma points out stubbornly. “But you seem to get it.” 

 

“I was a woman growing up there. We saw things differently,” Regina says wryly. “You may remember what I did with  _ my  _ husband.” 

 

Emma chokes out a half-laugh, and then sighs. “I wonder sometimes if he’d be this bad if we hadn’t gotten married,” she says. “Marriage brought out this possessive side in him that he’d never really had before. And we never fought before– what?” she demands, taking the baby again. 

 

Regina stops rolling her eyes. “It’s just…you fought all the time, Emma. And then you forgave him. Like you always do now. Like you will today.” 

 

Emma’s eyebrows shoot up, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” 

 

“Have you forgotten all the times he’s lied to you and made a wreck of things?” Regina points out, and she can’t stop herself from this, the brutal truth that has nagged at her for years. “His time as the Dark One while you were trying to clean up after him? You used to get angry,” she remembers, which had been…reassuring, almost, to know that Emma would dare. “But after a while, you didn’t even bother with that. He could have tried to kill you and you’d beg  _ him  _ for forgiveness, Emma. Don’t you remember?” 

 

“Stop it,” Emma says, and she sounds– not angry, but frail. She isn’t fighting back, but she sounds as though… “Please, stop.” 

 

She’s wounded Emma with the truth, pushed it to her before she’d been ready for it. “It’s not my place to talk about this,” Regina says hastily, but the damage is done. 

 

Emma shakes her head, a tic in her jaw. “No,” she says, and hurt glitters in her eyes. “It isn’t.” 

 

Something cracks between them, just a tiny bit.

 

* * *

 

Nothing changes. Nothing  _ can  _ change, because they’re both Hope’s primary caretakers and they have to be adults about it, no matter how much Regina had overstepped. She’s usually more careful about criticizing Hook or his relationship with Emma, because Emma will never take it well no matter how much she herself might rant about it. And Emma puts an indefinable distance between them after that, one that only they can see.

 

Ry doesn’t notice, except that he comments, “Mom hasn’t been coming by as much at night lately.” 

 

“We spend all day together,” Regina reminds him, and he shrugs like he does when he knows that he isn’t getting the full story, a little sullen but resigned. “I’m sorry,” she says, and he shrugs again, returning to the math workbook on his bed.

 

He isn’t wrong. Emma had been a constant fixture in the house at night until the confrontation at the station, and she still drops by sometimes but it’s cooler, less receptive. Regina had  _ hurt  _ Emma, and Regina knows it but doesn’t know what she can possibly say to fix it. 

 

She won’t take back what she’d said, not when it’s  _ true _ and Emma deserves better and–

 

_ What the hell is she doing?  _

 

Emma deserves better. Regina has always known that. But Emma doesn’t  _ want  _ better. Even when she regrets her marriage, she still sees herself with Hook, and Regina isn’t ever going to be on her radar. What is Regina trying to accomplish by reminding Emma of all the ways that Hook had hurt her?

 

She’s a fool. Evil, cruel, and careless. As much as she longs for things she shouldn’t have, she will not get them by  _ hurting  _ Emma. And it’s time for her to stop being so  _ stubborn _ and be the friend that Emma needs.

 

She resigns herself to the unpleasant fact that she’s going to have to apologize, and she goes to Granny’s the next morning and purchases a cocoa with cinnamon and a bear claw. But Emma doesn’t arrive in her office that morning, Hope in tow. She isn’t at the station, either, and Ry shrugs when she asks about her. 

 

“I don’t know. Killian stormed in like they’d been fighting again and said that Mom wasn’t coming in today. Why don’t you call her?” He watches her, thoughtful, as though there’s some significance to their interactions. Regina sighs and sends Emma a text.

 

She gets a terse response. _Home with Hope. Might take a few days off._ A pause, and then, _Don’t_ _come by._

 

Regina glares at the phone screen and teleports immediately to Emma’s house. Emma is sitting on the couch in a little flowery dress, Hope in her arms, and she stares at Regina irritably. “I told you not to come by,” she says, and she waves her hand and teleports Regina right back to her office.

 

How  _ dare  _ she. Regina storms through her office, dialing Emma’s phone number, and slamming her phone down when Emma doesn’t pick up. It takes nearly an hour for her to cool down, and another hour before she’s thinking clearly enough to be worried again.

 

But Emma doesn’t answer her calls, and she doesn’t drop by that night or the next. She isn’t going to work, and Hook slouches around and is noncommittal about the whole thing. “She wants to be home with our child now,” he says when Regina demands answers. “Or did you want her to get herself hurt again?” His voice is brazen, his eyes challenging, and Regina forces herself to walk away from a fight.

 

She’s still brooding about it that night, alone while Ry spends the evening at Emma’s, when her phone rings and finally–  _ finally _ – Emma’s name appears on the screen. “Emma,” she says with relief.

 

Emma says, her voice strained, “Help.” 

 

Regina hangs up the phone and shuts her eyes, her magic so fine-tuned to Emma’s at this point that she can feel her distress from across town. Emma’s in pain, guilty and afraid of something– not imminent danger, but  _ something _ . And she’s…at the Rabbit Hole? 

 

Regina teleports just outside the bar, spotting a telltale flash of red near the front door of the bar. “Emma?” she says, keeping her voice carefully gentle. “Are you–“ Emma turns, and Regina gasps in horror.

 

There’s a long, jagged cut across her face, splitting the left side of her lip and breaking into a dozen bloody streams on her cheek. It’s nearly to her  _ eye _ , and Regina says, breathless with horror, “Emma, what  _ happened _ ?” 

 

“I can’t heal it,” Emma says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I mean, I tried, but my vision’s off and I’m a little drunk and– I have bottles for Hope tonight,” she says swiftly, as though she’s afraid that Regina might judge her for  _ that _ . “Until it’s out of my system. I just needed–“ She looks down, rivulets of blood still sliding down her cheeks. “Please, Regina,” she whispers. “Killian can’t find out.” 

 

“Find out what?” Regina demands, but she moves forward, touches the cut gingerly as she calls forth her magic. “That you got into a  _ bar fight _ ? Why the hell–“ Emma meets her eyes hopelessly and she understands with a rush of sadness. “Emma,” she says, her voice gentler. “You can’t do this to yourself. You aren’t– there’s nothing wrong with having a life outside your daughter.” 

 

“Killian’s going to have a field day with this,” Emma mutters. “I sneak out for a drink and come back with my face sliced up. Hope deserves–“ 

 

“Stop,” Regina orders, fed up already with this line of thinking, and Emma stops and watches her, quiet and beseeching. Regina waves a hand and takes them to her bathroom, sitting Emma on the closed toilet seat and bringing in a chair so she can see the damage. 

 

She cleans the blood away, tugging out glass where it’s embedded in Emma’s skin. Emma hisses in pain but is an obedient patient, eyes fixed on Regina’s face and unmoving. “Go for a patrol, Emma,” Regina murmurs, tracing her fingers over the cuts. Magic heals them, leaves the skin smooth and unmarred, and she takes special care near Emma’s eye before she trails her fingers back to Emma’s cut lip. “Leave your house. Leave your  _ baby  _ sometimes.” 

 

Emma isn’t glassy-eyed anymore, but her eyes are red-rimmed and despairing. “I can’t. I can’t do this–“ 

 

Regina is caressing her cheek as her thumb traces the cut across her lip, Emma shuddering at her touch. “Emma,” she says, and she has to struggle to keep her voice firm instead of pleading. “Hope deserves a mother who is  _ happy _ . You aren’t happy like this.” 

 

“I’m happy sometimes,” Emma whispers, and she reaches up for the first time since she’s been sat down, stroking Regina’s hair. Regina looks down, can feel the heat and longing suffuse her, and she tries to inspect Emma’s lip dispassionately. 

 

“This might–“ She takes a stilted breath. “This might leave a scar.” It’s too deep, and she knows that lips are tricky to heal right, has learned that the hard way. 

 

Emma smiles shakily. “We’ll match,” she says, touching the scar on Regina’s lip. Her fingers trace Regina’s lips, dragging down the lower lip for a moment. Regina watches her, her magic working instinctively and her heart thumping, and Emma leans in, just a hair. “Regina,” she murmurs, her voice thick and hoarse, and Regina closes her eyes and feels Emma’s fingers drop and her lips replace them. 

 

She inhales, and she knows is Emma. Emma kisses uncertainly at first, tentativeness that turns to need, hands tangling into Regina’s hair and trembling as she kisses Regina again. Regina kisses back, careful– always careful– and she tastes the barest hint of blood still on Emma’s lip, tastes the way that Emma breathes hotly against her mouth and slips her tongue into it, just a brief moment that has Regina let out a ragged sob. 

 

She cups Emma’s face in her hands, kisses her soundly, feels wet tears hit her fingers as Emma kisses her. Being kissed by Emma feeling like being something sacred, something precious touched only with reverence, and she sobs again, overcome with a sensation of fragility that she is so rarely permitted to have. 

 

Emma smiles against her lips, presses hers to the corner of Regina’s mouth, and then her fingers still. Regina knows the instant that Emma comes back to herself, feels it in the stiffness of her touch before Emma even jumps back, banging her head on the side of the sink and letting out a curse. 

 

“Fuck. Regina. Fuck,” she says, but she’s still touching her lips, breathing hard, her eyes red and her cheeks tearstained. “Fuck,” she says again.

 

Regina  _ hurts _ , because of course this is a mistake. Of course– she’d known it, too, though she hadn’t been thinking about it at the time. She hadn’t been thinking about  _ anything _ , had faded into an existence where it could be as easy as kissing the woman she– “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

 

“You aren’t the one who–“ Emma scrubs at her eyes with her hands. “I can’t believe I was so  _ selfish _ .  _ Again _ .” Regina shakes her head minutely in denial, and Emma glares at her with blazing, guilt-ridden eyes, and then sinks back, her hand still at her lips. “I…” She takes a breath. “I  _ can’t _ , Regina. I can’t be a  _ cheater _ .” 

 

In the face of her agony, Regina is left just as guilt-ridden, just as miserable on her behalf. “Nothing happened,” she says firmly, and there’s an unspoken  _ this time _ between them.

 

Emma laughs brokenly. “You know, I could…I could excuse away what happened on our trip because it was a one-time thing. You’re…we’re both attractive women who care about each other and it felt kind of inevitable, right?” Regina can’t answer, can’t talk about that night honestly without destroying herself. Emma barely seems to see her in front of her. “But I can’t have an  _ affair _ ,  _ god _ –“

 

“We are  _ not _ doing that,” Regina says, and she steels herself and says, as stiffly as she can, “You are drunk and we got caught up in a moment. You want the life you have with…with  _ Killian _ –“ She spits out the name, disgusted to have to say it. “And I do care deeply about you,” she admits, and takes a breath and lies. “But I don’t  _ want  _ to be with you. I don’t want any of this.” Emma watches her, and somewhere beneath her mess of muddled emotions, she still has the capacity to look stricken as well. “I’m sorry,” she finishes, and she summons every inch of the mask that she’d developed over her years as queen and the curse, and says, “I think we need some distance.” 

 

Emma is quiet in her vulnerability, eyes downcast and her finger playing with the scar at her lip. “Okay,” she says, her voice small, and when she looks up, it’s with hollow eyes.

 

Regina remembers suddenly what Emma had confided in her about the year apart, remembers how many times Emma has said  _ I really missed you  _ as though it’s significant, and she says helplessly, “I don’t– I just don’t want you to lose the things that matter to you because we keep–“ She stumbles through thoughts that are never enough, and tries finally, “If you need me…I’m not going anywhere, okay? But Hope needs a babysitter you haven’t slept with. You need to go work things out with your husband. And you need to  _ go to work _ ,” she says urgently. “You can’t hurt yourself anymore.” 

 

Emma says, “I know,” with such an air of defeat that it feels as though Regina had slapped her. Regina stands, head bowed, and she closes her eyes when she feels arms wrap gently around her. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” Emma murmurs in her ear, and she rests her head against Regina’s shoulder while Regina stands stiffly, gripped with uncertainty, and finally winds her arms around Emma.

 

_ You stopped talking about yourself after that night _ , Emma had said, and Regina still can’t speak about it, but she finds ways to say  _ I don’t want to lose you _ , too, in pushing Emma away for her own good and in, in a town full of fairytale characters, instantly finding the one who needs her help.

 

It will have to be enough.

 

_ It felt kind of inevitable, right? _


	4. Chapter 4

Emma finds a babysitter. It’s Violet Morgan, Henry’s onetime girlfriend, who is taking college courses online and wanders around town, pushing Hope’s stroller in the park and settling on the ground with baby and laptop. It’s a good arrangement for everyone involved, and Regina attempts to remind herself of that as she finds reasons to leave her office during the day, casually walking past the two girls at the park.

 

“You can come say hi, Mayor Mills,” Violet calls out after one too many walkarounds, a week in. Her eyes are sparkling knowingly, and Regina winces and turns around, a look of surprise on her face.

 

“Oh, Violet. I didn’t see you there.” Violet just smiles at her again, and Regina sighs. “All right, yes. It’s not that I don’t trust you with her,” she says, determined not to alienate Hope’s current caretaker.

 

Violet bobs her head in understanding. “You just miss her.” She raises the baby to face her, and Regina freezes as she considers the fact that Hope might not even remember her anymore. But Hope’s face splits into a smile and she reaches for Regina, a stream of babble escaping her lips. 

 

Regina hurries to her, lifts Hope into her arms, and coos softly, “Hello, little girl. Did you miss me, darling?” Hope giggles, reaching to pull happily at Regina’s necklace. “I haven’t changed a dirty diaper in front of the district attorney in  _ days _ ,” Regina says, poking Hope’s nose. “But we’ll always have the memories.” 

 

“She’s a really good baby,” Violet says, shading her eyes so she can look up at Regina. “I did wonder how the mayor was taking care of an infant at work, but I get it. She’s so  _ happy _ .” She grins, and then looks past Regina to the park entrance. “Oh, and there’s Sheriff Swan.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I don’t think her patrols need to pass  _ here  _ a dozen times a day, right?”

 

Regina had frozen up somewhere around the words  _ Sheriff Swan _ , and she forces a smile. “I’m certain they don’t,” she says, turning guiltily to face Emma. 

 

Emma isn’t alone. Hook is walking with her, a step behind, and Emma’s eyes are bright as they meet Regina’s and then dim. Her voice is light, her words wry. “Let me guess. You’re here for the scenery, too.” 

 

Regina arches an eyebrow. “I take walks in the park. I find it relaxing.” 

 

Emma grins. “Yeah, me too. Love driving by the park…spotting Violet in the grass…driving by the park again…it’s a hotbed of criminal activity, right?” she says, and Hope giggles madly as Emma reaches in to tickle her, her fingers brushing against Regina’s. 

 

They both freeze. Regina murmurs, “You’re patrolling again.”

 

“Yeah.” Emma smiles at her, ducks her head so Regina only catches a flash of curved lips before Emma is tickling Hope again. “Killian is coming around with me. It was our compromise.” She doesn’t sound thrilled, just resigned. “It’s a whole lot of together time,” she says, and there is a note of exhaustion in her voice. “But I’m moving around more. It’s better. I just…” She looks up through her eyelashes, and Regina’s heart skips a beat. 

 

_ I miss you _ , Regina thinks, and she strokes a finger through Hope’s downy brown hair instead, her heart skipping a beat at the way that Hope smiles up at them. They’re standing too close, their heads nearly bumping, and it feels…like a dream that Regina has never been foolish enough to believe that she deserves.

 

And she’s always, always brought down to earth. “How is my daughter?” Hook says, and his smile is unpleasant at Regina before he moves forward, reaching out for Hope with his hand. Hope squirms, and Emma casts an apologetic glance at Regina as she eases Hope into Hook’s arm. 

 

Hope twists, reaching for Regina again, and Regina takes a step back, her eyes still fixed on the baby. It  _ hurts _ , hurts like it shouldn’t, and Hook says, “Look at her. A little pirate rogue in the making, isn’t she?” His smirk is genuine, and Regina’s heart twists at it, and at the way that Emma’s eyes grow soft and she moves in close to her husband to gaze down at their baby. 

 

_ Their baby _ , and Regina has no part in this scene, not holding Hope and not standing beside Emma. Regina takes another step back, then another, all in a futile attempt to flee from the happy little family. Hook murmurs something to Emma, and Emma has eyes only for the baby in Hook’s arm. 

 

Regina turns away abruptly in aching pain, incapable of watching Hope with Hook.  _ Mine _ , something visceral within her begs,  _ mine, please, mine _ , and she twists back to stare at the baby’s face, craving one last look–

 

It’s a mistake. Emma is watching her from beside Hook, intent and with somber eyes, and her smile looks painful from afar. Regina lurches away from them, walks quickly with her head high and her feet hurting from the force with which she’s stalking across the pavement.

 

She can’t even make it to her office. Instead, she finds the station in front of her and pushes the door open, looking around wildly and calming only when she sees Ry at the desk, eyebrows furrowed as he examines the computer. “Ry,” she says, exhaling.

 

Ry doesn’t look up. “Hi, Mom. Did you know that there are programs where you can actually write whole letters on here?” She steps around the desk to see Microsoft Word on the screen Ry scrolling through page after page of keysmashes. “I thought you had to do that in emails. Look at this!” He types again,  _ AKJSFWEGN WEGWGKWGNKWJEKAGNKEGNKE JRGNEGNERKG _ appearing on the screen, and he grins in fierce delight.

 

Regina laughs, the tension of the past few minutes finally beginning to drain. “You’ve been playing video games on the computer for over a year but no one told you about word processors?” She shakes her head in bemusement. “This is Emma’s fault.” 

 

“Video games are important for my dexterity and hand-eye coordination,” Ry recites Emma’s excuse from memory. “Although this is pretty good for it, too.” He stabs each letter on the keyboard, then writes his name, makes it bold, italics, and underlined, and then moves the cursor over the ribbon bar as he examines the other options.

 

Regina takes the mouse and makes the font size 72. Ry’s eyes go wide. “ _ Whoa _ ,” he breathes, and she ruffles his hair fondly and sits on the desk beside him. She can brush away the encounter with Emma and her family at last, content in her happy circle of her sons and their extended families. She’s  _ fine _ .

 

“Something’s wrong,” Ry says, and Regina startles, blinking back at him. He’s set the mouse down, and he’s examining Regina with a critical eye. “You went to see Hope,” he concludes. “What happened?” 

 

Regina stares at him guiltily. “How did you know?” 

 

“I know you,” he says, scoffing as though it’s self-explanatory. “Also, there’s spit-up on your lapel.” 

 

“Oh–“ She grabs a tissue and wipes at it furiously, but there’s already a stain against the dark color of her pantsuit that she can’t get off.

 

Ry says, “Magic?” Regina registers that, removing the stain with a flick of her wrist instead. Ry watches her curiously, and then says, “Was Mom at the park, too?” 

 

Regina shrugs in an attempt to be nonchalant. “I think she might have been coming just when I was going.” Her voice cracks at the end, revealing too much, and she slips off the desk and heads for the door. “Anyway, I’d better be going– there’s a situation with this wizard who keeps realm-hopping and I have to coordinate with the Regina in his current realm–“ 

 

“Mom,” Ry says, and his eyes are knowing. “It’s okay. Mom isn’t coming back until much later. They left to patrol right before you saw them.” 

 

“I don’t–“ Regina hesitates. “We’re not fighting,” she says finally. She knows Ry would resent her if he thought she were, if he were ever put in a situation where he’d have to choose between mothers. He’d grown up with Emma, had loved her and hated the Evil Queen, and there’s never a question of where he’d choose to be.

 

She can’t lose him to  _ Hook _ , too. 

 

But he shrugs. “I know you aren’t,” he says simply, and he doesn’t explain  _ why _ , just watches her with a disquieting gaze that sees too much.

 

* * *

 

She had missed Emma desperately in the Enchanted Forest, had watched Henry grow up into a man Emma would have been proud of and longed to have a partner as he had. It had been even worse in Hyperion Heights when she’d regained her memories alone and wanted nothing more than Emma beside her, her constant in a way that so few have been. She’s yearned for Emma for so many years that it’s slow torment now to have her so close and still distant.

 

But this is what they need, and Regina doesn’t trust herself to be around Emma without them falling into what are becoming old patterns. There is far too much at stake. If they can’t coexist without being inexorably drawn to each other– if this  _ thing  _ between them continues to sabotage Emma’s happiness–

 

_ You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed _ , Emma had said once, and sacrificed her very soul for Regina’s sake. Regina owes Emma more than she can ever repay, and yet she finds that she does very little out of a sense of debt. It’s that damned selflessness that had come with redemption, consuming her with a sense of responsibility toward Emma’s happy ending. 

 

She doesn’t believe in happy endings, but Emma still clings to hers, and Regina will be damned if she gets in the way of it.

 

So she stays away, and her heart wrenches when she sees Emma in the street, walking with her husband and smiling wistfully when she catches sight of Regina. She stays away, and she wonders every time she sees Hope if this will be the time that Hope has forgotten her, that she will be a stranger to her. She stays away, and she has to tamp down a bolt of jealousy each time she sees Ry settled comfortably with Emma and Hope and Hook, a happy family with no place for her. 

 

This is penance, and she takes it in stride, as she has a dozen times before in far grimmer situations. Whatever Ry senses is going on between them, he’s becoming more and more of a fixture in her house, more reticent than Henry has ever been but somehow equally calming. She has Ry. She can still see Hope and Emma and they aren’t realms away. She has Henry and Ella and Lucy just one realm over, and Snow and Zelena are a visit away. She is  _ happy _ , and that can’t be overstated.

 

And if only one glimpse of Emma Swan can turn it all upside-down, then, well, this distance is going to fix that.

 

She stumbles blearily into Granny’s diner one morning after a sleepless night, set on getting coffee with minimal effort before she heads to work. The diner is crowded this morning, the line for takeout winding through the tables, and Regina steps onto it without so much as a glance around.

 

It’s a pleasant– no,  _ unpleasant _ – surprise when she catches sight of a red jacket and long blonde hair directly in front of her.

 

Her bleariness fades away in an instant, and Regina is left frozen in place, staring at Emma’s back. It’s absurd how much she’s missed Emma, that just standing on line behind her can make Regina’s heart pound. But pound it does, enough that she’s surprised that Emma can’t hear it behind her.

 

Emma does turn after a moment for an apologetic, “I won’t be long, I’m just picking up a second order of pancakes for my husb–“ She stops, her eyes widening incrementally. “Regina,” she murmurs, her voice suddenly thicker, more weighted.

 

“Emma,” Regina breathes, and they smile uncertainly, their eyes flush with emotion as their lips curve only slightly. It takes effort for Regina to tear her eyes from Emma’s to look around, finding Hook in one of the booths. Hope is in a stroller next to him, and he is poking half-heartedly at her with that odd rubbery hook-protector that he wears. Hope is gnawing at it happily, and Regina looks away quickly, feeling a pang. “You look…you’re looking well,” she says, struggling for another smile at Emma. 

 

“No more bar fights,” Emma says wryly, brushing her finger against the nearly invisible scar on her lip. “Thanks for kicking my ass into gear. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” It’s almost shy, and Regina longs to reach for her, to squeeze her hand or tuck away the hair that’s drifting toward her cheek. “I’m trying to…I’m trying to do right by him,” she whispers, nodding to Hook. Hook hasn’t noticed them yet. He’s stealing bites of Emma’s bear claw, tugging his hook and failing to get it free from Hope’s mouth. 

 

Regina scoffs and then regrets it at Emma’s reproachful look. “Is he still breathing down your throat?” she mutters. 

 

Emma shrugs. “I’m trying to get better at liking that,” she admits, then flushes and looks chagrined at her honesty. “Sorry. I didn’t say that. You know I’m just not…I’m not the greatest at…” She stops short, wringing her hands, and Regina keeps hers flat at her side to restrain them. 

 

Instead, she takes a breath and says, “I’m glad you’re happier,” and Emma looks at her in pure anguish. She stops, wondering–  _ hoping? _

 

“My love,” Hook says, slipping in beside her. He’s managed to cradle Hope in the arm with the hook, Hope still chewing at the hook protector, and he slides his other around Emma and kisses her neck. He watches Regina as he does it, triumph in his eyes, and Emma squirms away.

 

“You’re going to lose our table,” she scolds him, but her eyes are narrowed, angry, and he doesn’t notice it. 

 

“Ah, Majesty,” Hook says, smug. “I didn’t see you there.” Hope is reaching for Regina, and Hook jerks her back, out of range. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, actually,” he says, and Regina refuses to give him the pleasure of asking why. He offers it anyway. “We’ve bonded as a family since you stopped looking after Hope. Haven’t we, love?” 

 

He beams at Emma, and Regina stares hard at him, watching the minute way his smile curves into a smirk when he looks back at her. Emma says awkwardly, “I…” and then seems to give up. “Can we not  _ do _ this?” she hisses to Hook, loud enough that Regina can hear it.

 

Hook says, “Why not?” and he’s smirking clearly now, watching Regina with the eyes of someone who knows well enough to see her as a rival. Hope is making dissatisfied noises, still straining for Regina, and Hook jerks her back against him. She whimpers, and Regina watches her helplessly, her heart in her throat.

 

Emma closes her eyes as though in pain, and she says, her voice tight, “It’s a long line. Let’s just go to work, okay? Violet will be waiting for us.” 

 

“She can wait for family breakfast,” Hook says, and Regina grits her teeth and keeps herself from flinching. Hope has finally stopped reaching for her, her eyes still fixed on Regina and her lower lip quivering, and Emma exhales. 

 

“I want to go,” she says, stepping out of the line, and her hand brushes Regina’s palm in a movement that sends a shiver up Regina’s spine. There is no tightening of their grips, no handholding or anything so tangible, but it’s a quiet comfort, a connection strong enough that it scorches Regina and leaves her warm for an instant.

 

And then Hook is settling Hope into her stroller and sliding a hand onto Emma’s back, and the moment of reassurance is gone. Hope begins to cry as they push her from Granny’s, and Regina watches them go, aching at the way that mother and daughter fade from view again.

 

She forgoes the coffee. She walks to Town Hall and settles down at her desk, determined to lose herself in paperwork, when she notices the book on top of her keyboard. 

 

It’s a fairytale book like Henry’s, but newer, barely touched, and there’s a Post-It note atop it with Henry’s sprawling writing.  _ Found the realm you wanted. Love you.  _

 

She opens the book, a portal springing to life above it, and she steps into it without a second thought.

 

* * *

 

Storybrooke looks the same as always, the familiar main street and the quiet walk to her house. Regina strides down the road, smiles tightly at anyone who speaks to her, and notes that there seems to be very little hostility toward her in this new realm. It seems a simple, content land, only the slightest hints of the Enchanted Forest in a magically decorated dollar store and the tree growing tall outside Town Hall. 

 

She doesn’t go to Town Hall. It isn’t this realm’s Regina whom she wants to speak to. Instead, she walks home, her heart pounding in trepidation, and she raps on the door and gets no response.

 

There is a cry from the yard– harmless, a baby shrieking because it hasn’t gotten its way– and Regina circles the house instead, walks past neatly trimmed shrubbery to find her mother resting in a swinging chair, a baby draped over her. 

 

Regina stares, first at the baby and then at Mother, who swings peacefully with her eyes mostly closed, a little sparkle of magic dancing around the baby. The baby isn’t Hope, she recognizes at once. Her skin is too white, her hair a light blonde, and she can’t possibly be–

 

“Robin has been fussing all morning,” Mother says, and Regina exhales.  _ Robin. Of course _ . Even in this realm, with Mother present, Robin has somehow come into being. Regina stares at them, at  _ Mother _ , a Mother whom Henry has found with all the history that had come before them but who still has a heart.

 

In this realm, Snow had warned Regina about Mother’s heart in time, and Mother had survived their grand battle. Shell-shocked by the receipt of her heart, she had…changed, just a little bit. She’s still Mother, hungry for power and recognition and too quick to lash out at her daughters, but there is something haunted in her gaze, the barest hint of remorse.

 

Regina takes another step forward, as timid as a hurt child, and Mother tilts her head and says, “You aren’t my Regina, are you?” 

 

“I need to ask you a question,” Regina says, keeping her voice firm.

 

Mother sits up, shifting Robin in her arms. “You’re the one who– the queen over all the realms,” she breathes, and there is sudden, fierce delight in her eyes that Regina flinches at. Even Mother with a heart cares only for power, hers or Regina’s, and she shouldn’t be surprised at it. “I’m so proud of you, my dear.” 

 

She sets Robin down on a blanket in the grass, the baby happily kicking at the air, and walks to Regina. Her hand on Regina’s cheek is firm, focused, as are her gleaming eyes. Regina can feel herself tense, can feel a lump in her throat and her eyes already stinging. Mother has an effect on her in every realm, and she blinks hard, struggles to think past decades of hurt and to think of this woman as  _ Cora _ , not  _ Mother _ , and manages, “I need to ask you a question,” again.

 

Cora waits patiently, and Regina says, “There was a potion I took…years ago, before Storybrooke. I used one of your books for it, and you knew what it was when I drank it.”

 

She waits for the recognition to dawn in Cora’s eyes, the set disappointment as she recalls the potion and shakes her head pityingly. “The potion that kept you from bearing children,” she says. “We can never regret Henry, of course, but I wonder–“ 

 

“ _ Mother _ ,” Regina says, before something more cutting emerges. “Bearing children?” She takes a breath. “Is that…is that specific to the bearing, or does that mean that…I could still…”

 

“Spit it out, dear,” Cora says impatiently. “What are you asking? If you’re trying to get around the potion, I’m afraid I don’t have any solutions for you–“ 

 

“No. No,” Regina says hastily. She had long ago accepted her reality. There are many decisions she’d made as the Evil Queen, but this isn’t one she regrets, as much as she loves children. She shudders to think of what she might have done with a child when she’d been woefully unequipped, too consumed by Snow White to treasure a baby as it would have deserved. She doesn’t regret the potion, and she’s never once, even after Henry, thought wistfully of having a child naturally.

 

Maybe just a bit after Emma had first come to town, she concedes wryly, and then clears her throat. “I…in my realm, a friend had a daughter. We had been on a trip together through a forest known for its magical properties and we…” Her voice trails off. Cora is watching her steadily, an eyebrow arched. “The baby has magic like mine,” Regina says, her hands linked instinctively at her abdomen. “But she can’t possibly be mine, can she?” 

 

“I don’t see why not,” Cora says, turning to lift Robin into her arms. “The potion kept you from bearing children, not from mothering them. If Emma is capable of having your children, then the potion wouldn’t stop her from it.” 

 

“But wouldn’t there be–“ Regina stops. “I didn’t say it was Emma,” she says, staring at Cora.

 

Cora shakes her head wearily, and it’s the first time that she’s seemed…more gentle than prickly, exasperated but with a hint of fondness. “Go home,” she says. “Tell the woman you have another child together and continue this absurd dance.” She leans back, propping Robin against her side. “Dozens of realms I’m sure you’ve visited and I can’t imagine there’s a single one where you two have gotten your act together.” 

 

Regina blinks at her, taken aback, and says, “My Emma is  _ married _ .” 

 

“Well, there’s a twist,” Cora drawls, and she looks unruffled by this news. “This realm’s Emma and Regina are off fighting some wizard together. He went after Snow’s spawn earlier this week and then released him, and now they’re on the warpath.” 

 

“You don’t fight with them?” Regina says, suddenly curious at the dynamic between this Cora and her daughters. Zelena might not have any magic here, if their stories had played out similarly, but there’s no cuff on Cora’s wrist and there had been that little bit of magic when she’d arrived. 

 

Cora scoffs. “I’m babysitting,” she says, jerking a finger to the baby in her arms. “They’re fool enough to believe that the wizard will go after them.” 

 

“Fool enough– what does that mean?” Regina asks, distracted, and Cora just raises her chin and nods toward the other edge of the yard. A portal is opening behind Regina, swirling in a multicolored haze, and the staff emerges before the wizard, sending a bolt of energy directly at Cora. “What’s he after?” 

 

“Can’t you tell?” Cora demands, stepping back as Regina shields her from the blow. Her shield tremors, the force of the staff enough that Regina can feel her head pounding already. The wizard steps out into the yard, his eyes narrowing on Regina.

 

“Didn’t I just leave you at the town line with the blonde wench?” he demands, and Regina raises her hands and lets vines spring from the ground, winding around the wizard’s legs and staff. He struggles against them, his staff exploding again in another surge of power, and the vines are left charred at his feet. 

 

“What are you after?” Regina demands. “If you have a problem with me, then you can take it up with–“ 

 

The staff hurls another wave of magic in her direction and she throws up a hand to deflect it, but it goes past her toward Cora. Cora waves off the magic impatiently, propping Robin up in one arm. But Regina sees the way she shudders, the way her magic falters midway through her blow. Cora is weaker now, and she doesn’t stand a chance against this wizard.

 

The wizard sneers at her. “As if I have any use for you,” he growls, and he slams his staff onto the ground and makes it shake beneath them. Robin is crying, Cora loses her balance, and Regina springs back to catch them. She catches Cora, but Robin is suspended in midair, bawling and waving around her little hands as magic flows wildly around her. Regina can see it for a moment– magic seeping  _ within _ Robin, pulling out her own magic while she screams– and she moves without thinking, seizes the baby in the midst of a maelstrom and cries out herself. 

 

The surge of magic tears at her skin, at her back, but it stops tearing at Robin. She can feel it shredding her skin, draining her magic, and she blinks back tears of rage and pain and drops to her knees, pressing enough magic out of her at once that it blows the wizard away. 

 

Cora hurls out magic of her own, adds it to Regina’s, and Regina is wracked with far too much pain to appreciate the shivering sensation of doing magic with her mother again. Their magic echoes outward, slamming into the wizard, and he’s driven back into his own portal, blackened and incapacitated.

 

For now.

 

Robin is squalling in her arms, and Regina hushes her, shuts her eyes and feels the adrenaline fade and leave blinding pain behind. Cora crouches over them, her magic skittering over Regina’s wounds and failing to heal them, and Regina croaks, “The baby.”

 

“She’s been drained,” Cora murmurs. “The wizard took some of her magic for good. Her body is going into shock.” Robin is still sobbing desperately, her skin too pale as she quivers helplessly in Regina’s arms, and Cora slashes a line in Robin’s palm, then her own. “A bit of blood magic, perhaps,” she croons, and Robin cries and cries until their hands are pressed together, a tremor of magic passing between them until Robin’s skin is the right color again, her cries quieting.

 

Relieved, Regina collapses at last, stumbling back and slumping against a tree.

 

She doesn’t remember Cora plucking Robin out of her arms, doesn’t remember the portal opening easily beside her, doesn’t remember tumbling out back into her office and stumbling out of the building. She remembers pain, blood dripping from her nose and one of her arms not working right and half her face raw as though the skin had been peeled from it. She remembers her back stinging painfully with every movement, the wind raking agonizing fingers across her skin.

 

She doesn’t know how long she walks, but she remembers: a cry of alarm, an anguished “ _ Regina!” _ and Emma’s hands on hers as Ry says frantically, “Mom? Mom?” 

 

Robin is crying.  _ No _ , not Robin, and she opens two eyes red with blood and sees Hope reaching for her from her stroller.  _ Mine _ , she thinks dazedly, and then the effort of keeping her eyes open is too much.


	5. Chapter 5

She awakens again. This time, she’s sprawled out across the pullout couch in Emma’s living room. The bed is out, enough space on it for Ry to sit beside her and say tersely, “Be  _ careful _ , she’s moaning again–“ 

 

“It’s going to hurt,” comes Emma’s helpless response, and her magic sweeps over Regina. Her back aches, but not nearly as much as the rest of her, not until Emma’s magic flows over it again and embeds itself in her skin. She thrashes, and Ry holds her down, whispering apologies in her ear.

 

“Hurts,” she grunts, and Emma strokes the arm that doesn’t feel all wrong. It’s reassuring, though it does nothing when another wave of magic washes over her and she’s screaming again.

 

There are a dozen more attempts until Regina is finally healed enough to roll over onto her back, and she squints up at them. Emma is pale, drained, and Regina croaks, “Stop. You need…” 

 

“I’m not stopping,” Emma says stubbornly, and she lifts a hand over Regina’s eyes and uses a surge of magic to stop the bleeding. Regina cries out, and then there’s a heavy  _ thump  _ beside her and Emma is unconscious next to her. 

 

Ry looks down at her with some exasperation. “She crashed,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “I’m going to–“ 

 

Regina reaches for him with her good arm. “Don’t go,” she whispers. 

 

“I’m not,” he assures her, and his eyes are gentle. “Hope’s been napping and I can hear her starting to move around. Do you want me to bring her here?” 

 

_ Hope _ . The other realm had been so frenetic, the fight wiping everything else from her memory, and she remembers again that Hope is her daughter.  _ Her daughter. She has a daughter _ . “Hope,” she whispers longingly, and then she’s gone again, asleep before Ry can respond.

 

When she next wakes up, she’s wrapped in blankets and some of the pain has faded. Emma is sitting cross-legged on the bed beside her, Hope curled up in her arms. Emma is humming to the baby, her eyes fixed on her little bundle, and she coos, “We’re gonna heal your godmother a little more, aren’t we? Are you too young to learn?” She presses a kiss to Hope’s brow, and Regina watches them with eyes lidded, drinking in the sight of the two of them together.

 

She closes her eyes again, and wakes up when the room is dark and quiet. Emma is sitting up beside her, head against the back of the couch and eyes closed, and Hope is awake on her lap, scrabbling at Regina’s side with her little fingers. Regina reaches for her and discovers that her arm is healed. She still feels sore, can sense instinctively that her wounds are going to open again if she moves too abruptly, but she cautiously pulls Hope into her arms. 

 

Hope smiles at her, a wide, toothless smile, and Regina lets out a silent sob. She has Emma’s chin, Emma’s nose, but her complexion is darker, her eyes Regina’s brown, and her downy hair matches Regina’s perfectly. She looks just like Regina, and Regina doesn’t know how she’d doubted it until now. “Mine,” she whispers voicelessly, and she can feel tears threatening to escape. 

 

Not hers. She may be this baby’s biological parent, but there’s no proof for it, and Regina will be damned if she becomes the biological parent seeking rights she hadn’t earned. Emma has  _ chosen _ , chosen to believe that Hope is Hook’s child, chosen a happy little nuclear family, and Regina has no right to stand in the way of that. Hope gurgles in her arms, scratches happily at Regina’s face where it’s still tender, and Regina kisses her little cheeks until she giggles.

 

Emma awakens from the noise, still drowsy and drained, and she blinks blearily at Regina. “You’re up.” 

 

Regina nods, Hope still in her arms, and she rasps, “How…how long was I out?” 

 

Emma closes her eyes. “Three days. You’ve drifted in and out, but I didn’t– I don’t have enough magic for this kind of healing. I’ve been doing what I can.” She wipes at her eyes, suddenly frustrated, and she says, “If you’re going to throw yourself into danger, can you at least bring me along?” 

 

“I didn’t know…” Regina begins weakly, and Emma cuts her off.

 

“And if you try that  _ distance _ bullcrap again, I swear, I’m never going to talk to you again,” she says fiercely. “I’m not– I spent long enough without you already, okay? And maybe you won’t talk to me anymore but I can’t believe that you’d be fine with us– with us being so–“ She’s crying, and Regina reaches weakly for her, tugs her to her. Emma goes willingly, dropping down beside Hope and Regina and curling into both.

 

“I’m sorry,” Regina whispers, and she can feel the guilt, a pit in her stomach that has her twisting uncomfortably. “I don’t…I really didn’t know the wizard would be there. There was– Robin–“ 

 

“Robin,” Emma repeats, and her eyes are suddenly guarded as she sits up. “You went to some realm– you were attacked while searching for Robin?” Now she looks angry, hurt, and Regina struggles to puzzle through her reaction. “You know, for someone who talks about moving on and fighting fate, you sure seem to put a lot of stock into that  _ soulmates  _ garbage–“ 

 

“Emma,” Regina struggles to whisper, her head aching as she registers the direction of Emma’s thoughts. “Robin. My niece. The wizard came for her.” 

 

Emma’s anger fades, and she’s left looking sheepishly at Regina. “Oh,” she says, sliding back down. “Right.” 

 

Regina watches her in silence, too tired to pick her mind over that reaction, but Emma offers it anyway in a sudden, frustrated stream of consciousness. “It’s just– you were always too good for him, you know? What did you see in him, anyway? What did he have to offer beyond existing? Sorry,” she finishes, scowling into the dark. 

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Regina says tiredly. It’s been a long time since her romantic past has been much of a thought in her mind at all. “We both know I hate your husband, so…” 

 

Emma laughs softly. “Yeah. You really, really do.” She laces her fingers into Regina’s, smiling down at her, and she says, “He’s upstairs. He’s livid that I’ve barely left this room all week, but what was I supposed to do?” she says helplessly. “I can’t– I couldn’t leave you alone while you were healing. I  _ know  _ why he doesn’t want us to be around each other, but…” She leans back against the couch, her breath jerky and unsteady. “I’m going to be better. I’m ruining all my relationships,” she says despairingly, and Regina shakes her head, squeezes Emma’s hand in her own.

 

“You’re doing everything you can,” she says hoarsely. “Trying to be…to be everything for everyone. What do you want to be?” 

 

Emma is crying, blinking back tears that manage to leak through, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t know. I have more than I’ve ever believed I could, Regina. How can I want anything but it?” She waits, waits, as though she expects Regina to respond.

 

Regina is silent, afraid to say anything that might launch Emma into something she doesn’t want. Emma is right. She  _ doesn’t  _ talk to her anymore, not about what Emma wants to hear, but how can she? How can she ever begin to destroy Emma out of a purely selfish–

 

Hope is staring up at her, content in her arms, and Regina watches Hope and listens to Emma’s ragged breathing. “I want my best friend back,” Emma whispers at last, and Regina squeezes her hand and resigns herself to it. 

 

“You never lost her,” Regina murmurs, and Emma bends over and kisses her brow. 

 

“Goodnight,” she breathes against Regina’s skin, and she takes the baby that isn’t Regina’s and walks upstairs, back to her husband, back to the life that she’s chosen. Regina watches them leave, too numb to do anything but lie on the bed, sore and aching from her ordeal and longing for them both.

 

* * *

 

Hook is less than pleased about Regina’s presence in his house now that she’s conscious. “Hope needs space,” he says grouchily, gesturing at the open couch bed with his hook. 

 

“She can barely even sit up yet,” Emma says reasonably, rolling her eyes. “And would you  _ cover that thing _ ? You’re going to hurt her.” 

 

Hook scoffs. “I don’t see why Regina has to be here at all. She’s  _ fine _ . Sitting up and everything.” Regina slumps back against the couch, giving up on staying upright for now. “She doesn’t need you.” 

 

“Yes, she does,” Emma snaps, on the brink of impatience. “And it’s either I camp out at her house or she stays here, so whichever you’d prefer–“

 

Hook catches Emma’s wrist with his hook, tugging her to him. “You know I always prefer you here,” he says, and Regina closes her eyes, unwilling to watch whatever is happening across the room from her. If she’d had enough magic left in her system, she’d have teleported home long ago. But Emma is firm, stubborn in her determination to care for Regina, and all of Regina’s magic is going toward healing.

 

Whatever that wizard had tried to do to Robin with his staff, it had been one of the most powerful attacks that Regina has ever withstood. Henry has already alerted her to the fact that he’s been written in another realm, though he’s been to weak to attack anyone there yet, and she knows with some urgency that she has to recover more quickly next time if she’s going to be a match for him.

 

A weight lands on her bed a moment later, Emma dropping down beside her. Hope is propped up in her arm, chewing happily on a lock of hair, and Regina can feel her longing like a hole within her, consuming her self and leaving nothing but  _ Hope, Hope, Hope _ behind. “Hope,” she croaks, and Hook scoops her out of Emma’s arm before Emma can react. 

 

“How’s my little tyke?” Hook croons, but his eyes are fixed on Regina, hard and malicious. Hope spits up on his sleeve, which is small relief, and Regina watches the baby with single-minded focus. 

 

Emma looks between them, chews on her lip, and gets a burp cloth. 

 

Regina is conscious more now, which means that she’s also aware that neither Emma nor Hook has gone to the station in days. “There isn’t really enough crime to justify a sheriff and two deputies on rough days,” Emma points out, which is irritatingly true. “I can do much more good in making sure that the Queen of the Universe is getting better.” 

 

Hook says, “Two sheriffs and a deputy.” 

 

Two sheriffs are certainly  _ not _ on the budget, and Regina musters up the strength to inform Hook of that fact when Emma says, “Two sheriffs,” in that voice that Regina can never figure out whether it’s resigned or affectionate. “But Ry is holding the fort for now. You’re welcome to keep him company, Killian. I know he’d like to get to know you better.” It’s tentative, Emma twisting her fingers together, and Hook ignores it entirely.

 

“Hope needs someone to remember she exists,” Hook grumbles instead, balancing Hope dangerously close to his hook, and Emma’s face darkens. Regina mumbles something uncomplimentary under her throat, but it only serves to make Emma even more irritable. 

 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just– can you  _ cover it _ ?” she finally demands, and she crosses the room and grabs one of the hook covers from the shelf of a bookcase and puts it onto Hook’s hook on her own. 

 

Hook yanks his hook away, eyes flashing. “I’m the child’s  _ father _ , I have it under control–“ 

 

“–She’s going to get hurt!“ Emma says, yanking it back.

 

“I  _ said _ ,” Hook snarls, and he shoves Emma with the blunt side of his hook, pushing her away too hard. She stumbles back, and Hope begins to cry. Regina feels a surge of magic, sparked by rage, firing up in her belly. “I have it  _ under control _ ,” Hook finishes. “But I see you still don’t trust me with our child, do you, Swan?” His face twists into something ugly and hard. “Would you prefer I handed her over to Regina?” he demands, the words mocking. 

 

Emma stares at him, at Hope, and there is none of the defiance of before on her face. She only looks miserably guilty, and she says, “Killian,  _ no _ . Of course I trust you with our daughter. I just– can you please wear the babyproofed cover on your hook?” Her voice is gently beseeching, and to that, Hook finally responds favorably. 

 

“You only had to ask,” he says magnanimously, as though Emma hasn’t asked him a dozen times in the past hour. Emma doesn’t point that out, and Regina watches them with narrowed eyes, sees as Hook tugs Emma back to him and Emma lays her head against his chest and stares down at Hope with single-minded focus. 

 

She watches Hope as though she’s an anchor, and she doesn’t seem to notice the man holding them both at all.

 

* * *

 

“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Regina asks later that evening. She’s managed to sit up and has walked all the way to the porch tonight with Emma’s help, which is a good sign that she’ll be out of this house soon. Ry will probably throw a party. He’s been finding reasons to go back and forth between houses even now that no one’s staying at Regina’s.

 

Emma shrugs defensively, helping Regina sit down on the porch steps before she sits beside her. “It’s not  _ letting _ , Regina. It’s just how he gets when he’s angry. When you’re angry, you curse whole realms, so I don’t see how you can point fingers.” Regina watches her silently, and Emma seems to shrink into herself. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. I just…” 

 

She takes a moment, staring into the night, and she says, “He’s angry at me all the time. And when I’m angry, he just gets angrier. I’ve gotten better at diffusing it. It was much worse when I was expecting Hope and I’d just…burst into tears.” She laughs shakily. “He’d get so frustrated, but I couldn’t stop myself.”  

 

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Regina watches Emma, sees the tired resignation in her eyes, and hurts. “What the hell does he have to be angry at you about?” Emma just looks at her, and the realization settles on Regina in a rush of grief and guilt. The conflict in Emma’s household is, in fact, their fault. “Oh,” she says numbly.

 

“Yeah,” Emma murmurs, her gaze returning to the street. “I mean, I don’t think he  _ knows _ , but he must sense  _ something _ . He was never this bad before Henry’s graduation trip.” 

 

“He was always this bad,” Regina says automatically, because she remembers dozens of conflicts, remembers Hook’s subtle manipulations to put down Emma and remembers every ingratitude for all Emma had done to keep him. “But before then, you just didn’t sit back and let him hurt you because you thought you deserved it.” 

 

Sometimes she had. Never as often as she does now, though. She thinks that Emma might lash out again, that they might fight over this and Regina won’t see Emma or Hope again for weeks, but Emma just exhales in the quiet night and says, “I made mistakes. I could have– they could have been even  _ more  _ awful, Regina, he’s finally treating Hope like she’s his daughter and Hope could have been–“ She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

 

_ Yours _ , Regina finishes it silently. Hook is finally treating Hope like a daughter because Regina’s been around for the past few days, but that isn’t the revelation that strikes her. No, it’s Emma trembling, wracked with regret at even the dismissed possibility that Hope could be Regina’s daughter.

 

Emma doesn’t  _ want  _ Hope to be Regina’s, and Regina knows then that she can never disabuse her of her belief that she isn’t. Even just their single night has been enough to turn Emma passive and accepting of whatever Hook doles out, and if Emma would know that Hope is Regina’s… 

 

She reaches for Emma’s hand, holds it in both of hers as Emma turns to look up at her. “I think it’s time for me to go home,” she says in a whisper.

 

Emma shakes her head at once. “You’re not better.” 

 

“I can heal the rest on my own.” Regina strokes the smooth skin of Emma’s hand, feels a little cut at her wrist and pauses. It’s exactly where Hook had grabbed her earlier, and Regina feels a little thrill of fury pass through her. “Is it better or worse when I’m here, Emma?” she asks, and Emma presses her lips together tightly and refuses to respond. 

 

It’s a response on its own. “I see,” Regina murmurs. “Ry will keep an eye on me. I’ll be fine.” 

 

There are questions to ask now, for Emma’s own good, questions like  _ do you really want this to be your life?  _ and  _ is he really worth it?  _ But Regina knows the answers to those questions, knows that Emma will never accept the fact that Hook might not be entitled to his rage. They’d once had this talk twice a week over cider, back before the graduation trip when they’d stopped confiding in each other, and Emma remains stubbornly certain that this where she is meant to be.

 

As though loving Emma Swan entitles Hook to  _ have  _ her, when Regina has never once entertained that notion.

 

There is another question she wants to ask but doesn’t, because she has no right to ask it.  _ Can I see Hope before I go?  _ It’s in her eyes, but Emma doesn’t see it, thankfully, and Regina instead walks carefully down the path, gathering enough of the magic she’s regained to teleport back home.

 

* * *

 

Within a week, it’s as though she’d never been hurt. She savors her mobility, wakes up one morning and discovers that she can walk down the stairs without any pain.  _ Breakfast _ . She walks swiftly down the stairs, holding on with a light touch, and her head isn’t spinning at all by the time she makes it to the kitchen.

 

Ry is at the counter, staring sleepily at the coffee machine as though it might pour itself if he stares at it for long enough, and Regina feels light on her feet, swift and nimble as though she doesn’t have far too many years for that. “You’re too awake,” he grumbles, and Regina takes his hand and moves, fleet-footed, until he’s laughing and dancing in the proper ballroom manner that he’d been trained for. He spins her around and she laughs, too, dancing with her son in the kitchen before breakfast. 

 

It’s a good day, and she refuses to let herself brood any longer. There are things that won’t change, things not worth mourning anymore, and by dwelling on them, she’s only going to bring down the people she loves. She has everything she’s ever wanted, even if not in the way that she wants, and she is determined to be content with that. 

 

She walks to work, Ry beside her, and she drops him off at the station first and ventures a smile at Emma. “Morning,” she says, and Emma smiles back, her own eyes brightening. 

 

“You’re feeling better,” she says, and the room feels lighter than it’s been in a while. “I’ve been worried, and now you’re…” Her voice trails off.

 

“What?” Regina says, and she remembers now to be worried, to remember how they’d left things. Emma has come to visit every afternoon since Regina had left, dropping by after work with Hope in her stroller, but there has been a vague tension between them. 

 

But Emma smiles, shy and soft, and she says, “Happy. I’m glad to see it.” There is a protracted moment of it, the two of them smiling stupidly at each other, and Regina is warm with affection. Emma is still beautiful when she’s sad, but she’s breathtaking when she’s happy, glowing with energy beyond the most radiant suns. 

 

And then a door opens behind Emma and Hook emerges from it, slipping an arm around Emma’s waist. “What’s got you so happy, love?” he asks, and Regina watches as Emma suddenly shifts, uncomfortable. Her own mood is quickly darkening, and she forces the back smile onto her face before it can fully fade.

 

“Regina’s feeling better,” Emma says, her lips still curved but her eyes uncertain.

 

“What stellar news,” Hook drawls, looking Regina up and down. “So when are you next leaving this realm?” 

 

Regina rolls her eyes at him. “Not soon enough,” she says darkly, the good mood fading. 

 

It’s easier to pull it back out when she emerges from the station, away from Hook. He has the singular effect of damping every bit of happiness she feels, only by existing in Emma’s vicinity. But that isn’t  _ changing _ , and that knowledge is much easier to live with from a distance.

 

She takes a breath and walks to the park, crouching down beside Hope and Violet. Hope beams at her with a toothless smile, and Regina lifts her up and feels another pang.  _ Mine _ , countered almost immediately with  _ not mine _ . She has no right to Hope. She can’t do what others have done to her, even to–

 

Even to  _ fucking Hook _ , because Emma has made her choice. 

 

“Abababa?” Hope says inquiringly, and Regina sits back on the ground, to hell with grass stains, and lets a tiny child bat happily at her face as she struggles to find peace again.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes it’s easier, especially when she stops putting herself in situations where she might see Hook. Emma’s house had been all dark paneling and dim lighting, and Regina’s found that she misses the light and wide windows of her house, the freedom instead of the claustrophobia of being trapped in the same space as Hook and all those secrets. And Emma is just as happy to avoid all discussion of her husband as Regina is.

 

“Look at this spoiled little princess,” Emma says, rolling her eyes as Regina spoons mashed yams into Hope’s mouth. Hope turns her head sharply away, brow furrowing, and Regina shakes off the yam and tries carrots instead. Hope turns back and eats happily. “She’s too young to have  _ tastes _ . This morning she grabbed my donut while I was turned away and took a bite. I had to fight her to get it out of her mouth.” Emma holds up a finger to display it like a battle scar. “Do you see this?” 

 

Regina examines Emma’s smooth, unblemished finger. “Looks dire,” she says dryly. 

 

“You barely even tried,” Ry points out from the living room couch, and Emma looks up in outrage. “You just Googled the Heimlich for babies and let her eat the whole bite.” 

 

“How dare you,” Emma says in abject betrayal. “I always try. I want only the best for Hope’s nutrition–“ 

 

“Spinach pizza isn’t  _ nutrition _ ,” Regina says archly, shifting to stare down Ry at his mock-horrified gasp. One year in this realm and he’s already picking up Emma’s terrible habits. “Your brother didn’t even know that chocolate existed until he was three.” 

 

Emma stares at her for a moment, then turns on her heel and leaves the room. For a moment, Regina is certain that she’s gone too far and mortally offended Emma, but then Emma stalks back in with one of the framed photos from Regina’s study. “Until he was three, huh?” she says, smirking.

 

Regina remembers the picture and winces. It’s Henry wearing a birthday crown with a big number one on it, his face covered in chocolate cake. Ry says, equally smug, “And you wanted to besmirch the name of spinach pizza. The  _ only  _ good thing about this realm.” 

 

“Granny’s mac ’n cheese pizza,” Emma reminds him, and Ry’s eyes go wide.

 

“ _ Yes _ .” He pats his stomach. “I can’t wait for Hope to get all her teeth. We can do monthly mac ’n cheese pizza runs and then spend a week regretting it, like real Storybrooke citizens.” 

 

Regina glares at him, then Emma. Emma says in a stage whisper, “She’s already planning a better mac ’n cheese pizza to upstage Granny. I know how she works.” Ry licks his lips. Hope grabs a spoon full of carrots and overturns it over Regina’s dress.

 

Emma snorts. Regina waves a hand and magics away the carrots. “Cheater,” Emma says, patting her own slightly orange shoulder. “Wear it with pride.” 

 

“You have magic, too,” Regina points out, spooning out some more carrots. Hope hits the spoon again, knocking the carrots onto her tray, and then she tilts her head and moves her hand jerkily. A little burst of violet magic emerges from her fingers and the tray disappears. “Hope!” Regina says, alarmed.

 

And maybe a little proud. Maybe. Hope is inspecting the space where the tray had been, patting her legs curiously, and she wriggles her fingers again. Regina replaces the tray hastily, before she makes her limbs disappear, and Emma says, “My god, what have I  _ created _ ?” 

 

“Perfection,” Regina says, but her brow furrows as she considers this new snag. She takes the spoon again, overturns the carrots on her sleeve, and then brings Hope’s hand to it. “If she’s going to be using magic, she has to learn how to do this right,” she points out at Emma’s frown. She holds her hand over Hope’s, letting the cleaning magic wash through both of them, and the stain disappears.

 

Hope considers it, moving her hand clumsily over Regina’s arm, and Regina spills more carrots onto it. Hope lets a little magic emerge, and Regina’s dress promptly disappears, leaving her in her underwear.

 

Ry sinks into the couch and covers his face with a pillow. Hope slaps Regina’s bare skin enthusiastically. Emma lets out a strangled noise, and Regina turns to stare at her, flushing. Emma’s eyes are raking over her body with uninhibited desire, and Regina freezes, her skin warm and wanting–

 

Hope slaps Regina’s arm again and her dress reappears. Emma tears her eyes away and stares fixedly at Hope, her cheeks bright pink. Hope giggles. 

 

“One more time,” Regina says, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Look, baby. Carrots–“ She drops the carrots onto her sleeve. “Magic–“ She guides Hope’s hand to it and uses her magic to make it disappear. “Now your turn.” 

 

She spills the carrots again and Hope moves faster this time, with more confidence as she uses her magic, and the stain disappears cleanly. “Yes!” she exclaims, and Hope lets out a pleased babble, slapping the table where the plate of mashed food sits and sending the food flying all over them. 

 

Emma ducks too late, and her hair is splotched in orange, matted strands of it against an orange-splattered face. A long glob of yam has landed on Regina’s nose, and she can feel it dripping slowly to its tip.

 

Ry has removed his pillow for long enough to snicker at them both, and Emma jerks a finger at him. “You’re on cleanup duty, smug little teenager,” she orders, and magic can’t get rid of the greasy sensation of baby food  _ everywhere _ . “I’m taking a shower.” 

 

Later, when they’re both comfortably clean, Regina digs through Roni’s old tees and finds a spare for Emma, a Def Leppard shirt that makes her wince. “Remind me to tell you later about the tattoo I had to get removed,” she says wearily.

 

Emma’s head pops up through the neck of the tee. “I  _ remember _ ,” she says, her eyes wide and gleeful, and Regina is brought back to the day after the coronation, Emma’s fingers skimming over her body. “Are you finally admitting to it?” 

 

“Did I say later?” Regina says, tilting her head. “Odd. I meant never.” 

 

“ _ Regina _ ,” Emma says, her voice nearly a whine. “You can’t just drop that kind of bomb and not tell me  _ where _ .” Her eyes are running over Regina’s body for the second time tonight, and Regina takes her carrot-covered clothes and shoves them in her face before she turns on her heel and stalks downstairs.

 

Ry has already wandered to his room for the night, and Hope is comfortably kicking at the little monkeys hanging from her bouncer while she waits for them. Her little arms shoot up at the sight of Regina, her smile bright enough to light the whole room, and Regina scoops her up and settles onto the couch.

 

Emma is only a few minutes more, and she takes the opposite side of the couch and lifts Hope into her arms, tapping her nose and making little beeping sounds that delight the baby. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Emma ventures at last, “Is it safe for her to have her magic so young? Isn’t there– maybe there’s a way that we can keep it blocked until she’s old enough to understand it?” 

 

“No!” Regina says, too sharply, and Emma flinches back. Hope pokes at Emma’s face inquiringly, and Regina takes a breath. “It’s not…no child should have their magic suppressed.” She’s seen what it does to children, and she has suspicions about her own magic being inaccessible for all the years that she’d lived with her mother. “If they don’t grow up with it– if they don’t learn how to use it naturally, as it grows with them– it can warp them when they first access it,” she says, a little more calmly. 

 

Emma studies her for a moment from the other end of the couch, and Regina sees the slow comprehension in her eyes and relaxes. “There is no reason to…to stifle her natural gifts,” Regina murmurs, suddenly embarrassed at how much she’s inadvertently revealed. “I know I have no say in your decisions for Hope–“ she begins, and Emma cuts her off.

 

“Are you kidding?” Emma scoots back over, letting Hope shift onto the couch and squirm between them to snatch a teething ring that’s gotten stuck between the cushions. “You’re her godmother, Regina,” Emma says, and she twists around, glancing toward the stairs as though to ascertain that Ry is still in his bedroom before  she lowers her voice and says, “I think…part of why I was so sure that she was yours is because I didn’t want to raise a kid without you.” 

 

“Oh.” It’s almost voiceless, pained and longing, and Regina closes her eyes and feels bitter desire return.  _ If only. If only. _ “You will never have to,” she promises, the words scratching at her throat. “I promise.” 

 

“Regina,” Emma breathes, and she reaches over Hope to take Regina’s hand, then seems to think better of it. Their fingers brush for a moment before they both snatch them back, and Emma says, “I should– Killian will get cranky if I’m not back before he goes to sleep.” It’s apologetic, but it still casts a pall over the night.

 

Regina forces a smile, forces it to be free of the quiet pain that comes with reminders of who waits for Emma at home. “You might want to change back into your dirty clothes,” she says, a gentle reminder, and Emma exhales and nods resignedly. 

 

It feels somehow illicit, all of this, as though they’re holding onto something they’ve never even had a chance to have.

 

* * *

 

Still, though, it’s better than anything that has come before, the awkwardness and the distance and the words unsaid. The seasons are changing, Maine predictably chilly before the rest of the country, and Regina offers her office to Violet for her babysitting. 

 

Ry hangs around the office more, blushing when Violet smiles at him, which is all kinds of… “It’s just  _ weird _ ,” Emma mutters to Regina one afternoon when she comes to pick Hope up early. “Doesn’t Violet think it’s weird?” 

 

“Violet is four years older than Ry and shouldn’t be thinking about it at all,” Regina mutters, and Emma rolls her eyes and nudges her. To her credit, Violet doesn’t seem to notice that Ry is watching her adoringly. She’s briskly packing up Hope’s food while Hope squirms on the floor, picking herself up onto her knees and then falling back down.

 

She’s on her knees now, craning her neck at the floor as though she can’t quite figure out why it’s so far away, and Emma drops to her knees on the other side of the room and says, “Hope, over here!” Hope looks up at her name, beaming at her mother, and Regina crouches beside Emma, watching as Hope’s fingers wriggle against the floor. Hope stares up at her, then back to Emma, and her little brow furrows as she moves one hand forward, then one knee.

 

“She’s doing it,” Emma hisses. “She’s doing it!” She’s glowing with fierce pride, but Regina barely looks at her, her own eyes fixed on Hope as she crawls forward another inch. She flops back to the floor after a moment, jerky and uncoordinated, but she gets up again and tries once more.

 

Violet tiptoes out the door, waving goodbye. Ry joins them at the other end of the office, crouching next to Regina. “Come on, kiddo,” he coaxes, swinging a baby toy from his hand. Hope lurches forward again, and they all hold their breaths.

 

This time, she stays upright, and she snuffles in delight and moves forward another step, then another. By the time she makes it to them, she’s only fallen twice more and Emma crows and seizes her, swinging her around and planting kisses all over her cheeks while Hope squeals in delight. “Look at you go!” Emma says gleefully. “You’re going to destroy  _ everything  _ in this office that you haven’t already.” She lifts her into the air. “Tell Aunt Regina exactly how much havoc you’re going to wreak.” Hope waves her arms and legs wildly, reaching for Regina at the mention of her name, and Regina lifts her right out of Emma’s arms. 

 

“Listen very carefully,” she says sternly to Hope, trying and failing to tamp down her own grin. “You now have both mobility and teeth. This means one thing.” Hope watches her intently. “When you see that pirate you share living quarters with,” she says, curling her lip into a mock sneer, “You have a  _ weapon  _ now, little girl. Go for the back of the ankle, it’ll be the easiest to–“ 

 

“Regina!” But Emma’s laughing, slipping an arm around her and pressing her head to Regina’s to look down at Hope. Her voice is suddenly serious. “Don’t listen to your Aunt Regina,” she says. “Not when the toes are basically  _ asking  _ for it.” Regina looks at her in surprise and Emma winks, ducking away. 

 

Her phone rings a moment later, and Regina knows the ringtone as instinctually as she knows her alarm tone in the morning, a second tier of rude awakening. Emma’s face falls, and she closes her eyes and takes a breath before she picks up. “I know, I’m late. Hope was  _ crawling _ , Killian–“ 

 

She doesn’t get any further than that before Hook’s voice is on the other line, loud and irritated enough that Regina can make out the tinny words. “You said we could spend this afternoon together and it’s almost gone. You already spend  _ every night  _ at her house– do you really need to–“ 

 

“Killian, please,” Emma says, and she looks pained as she ducks out of the room, closing the door behind her as she reasons with him. Regina can still hear her tone, though not the words, which rise and fall as Emma grows more agitated, then conciliatory. 

 

Ry says abruptly, “I tried yelling him down once when they were fighting and she was still expecting Hope.” He’s in Regina’s chair, his feet up on the desk, and he’s watching the door with quiet resentment. “She told me to stop. She  _ cried _ . It was…it was the most Mom’s ever seemed like the mother I grew up with.” He shrugs, sulky and as guilty about it as Regina feels. “So I don’t fight him anymore.” 

 

“It’s not your responsibility to get involved in their arguments,” Regina says at once. “You shouldn’t even have to  _ see _ them. Emma should be…”

 

“What?” Ry demands. “Protecting me from them? I’m not a kid. I can handle it.” 

 

Regina chooses her words delicately, careful with criticism that isn’t her place to give. “You shouldn’t have to.”

 

“I should be looking out for her,” Ry corrects her. “Someone should–“ He stares at the ground. “I get why you don’t get involved, but I’m the one who–“ 

 

Regina cuts him off. “What do you mean, you get why I don’t get involved?” She knows the same guilt as he does, and she  _ should _ , if Emma were only receptive to it. But a second guilt is just as strong, and she can’t possibly… 

 

Ry looks at her as though it’s obvious. “Because you’re in love with her,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

 

It hits like a sledgehammer to her heart, crumpling her in a way that little can anymore. She stumbles back against the wall, and she says urgently, the world falling around her, “You can’t  _ tell  _ her, Ry, she’s– she’s happy and she–“ 

 

Ry doesn’t respond. He gets up and walks deliberately to her, and she closes her eyes, dreads the worst, and exhales only when she feels tentative arms wrap around her. “I won’t,” Ry murmurs, and Regina embraces him tightly, squeezes her eyes shut and lets him hold her as much as she is holding him. “I promise, I won’t. I’m so sorry,” he says, and she can’t bear the compassion in his voice. 

 

“I don’t want your pity,” she says stiffly, pulling away. “I’m  _ happy _ . I have you– I don’t need anything but you and Henry. And of course I love Emma, she’s my best friend– but I’m not–“ 

 

“Mom,” Ry says, and he curls his arms around her again until she falls silent, leaning on him as she’s been afraid to until now. They’re different than she and Henry had been, more tentative and slower to express all the things they cradle close in their hearts, and this moment feels precious, ephemeral and rare and all she’s wanted from him.  _ Mom _ , and his arms around her like she’s his.

 

She is a mother. It’s her essence, it’s who she is, and she needs nothing beyond it.

 

_ Nothing _ , she thinks, and Hope crawls up to her and Ry, tapping her ankle as though in reminder.  _ Nothing _ , she thinks again, and she lifts this little girl who is hers and isn’t into her arms as the boy she’d never expected holds her in his arms.

  
Emma texts a few minutes later, after her voice is no longer echoing through Town Hall.  _ Plans changed. Can you take Hope to your place? _


	6. Chapter 6

“He really has gotten better,” Emma reassures her the next morning. Regina hadn’t asked, but Emma is jumpy and anxious when she comes by in the morning before work, calming only when Hope is in her arms. “He just gets grouchy when we’re not…you know, spending every waking moment together.” She has the grace to roll her eyes at that, but she still looks fretful. 

 

Regina waits. Emma says, “It’s not like it was when you were in the house. It’s better,” she insists again.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow. “You keep saying that.” 

 

“Because it is! Well,” she amends, and there’s a hint of deeper discontent there, a stress beyond whatever had gone on the day before. “He’s back to…not really having much interest in Hope anymore. But he isn’t as angry.” Regina is silent. The guilt is overwhelming, as it always is, with the understood fact that she’s the reason why Hook is angry, why he takes it out on Emma. A part of her wants to protest all of this, because  _ no _ , it’s not her fault, no one is at fault for Hook’s behavior but him–

 

But it’s still Emma and Hope who suffer. “And you want him to be more interested in Hope,” she guesses.

 

Emma shakes her head quickly. “It’s not that. Well, maybe a little,” she admits. “I just…I worry, you know? They just aren’t bonding, and he only seems interested in her when someone else is.” She sighs. “I think he’s  _ trying _ .” Regina stays wisely silent. “I used to wonder if he’d be a good dad, with his history,” Emma murmurs. “Then we watched Alexandra Herman once, years ago, and he was good with her. And he always got along with Henry, and…” 

 

Regina is tensely silent as they walk out the door, pushing the stroller toward the station. Hook’s capacity for fatherhood might just be her least favorite topic ever, she decides, an unfortunate few minutes after she’d prompted it with Emma. “I think he’ll be a good father to Hope when she’s a little older and can enjoy having a fun dad,” Emma says with new firmness in her voice. “When she doesn’t need as much…” She strokes Hope’s cheek. “As much tenderness.” She sounds almost embarrassed at it. 

 

“Maybe,” Regina says noncommittally.

 

Emma bites her lip, taking more from Regina’s silence than Regina had intended. “Am I being unrealistic? My dad was always so good with Neal. And Henry…” A hollow look. “I don’t even know what kind of parent Henry is–“ The fretfulness is back, the deep regrets lining Emma’s face, and Regina reaches over to the stroller to put her hand over Emma’s.

 

“He’s a wonderful father,” she says gently. “He has two parents who taught him that.” 

 

Emma blinks hard, her smile pained. “Maybe it’s not fair that I…that I’m judging Killian for not being…” She stops, her fingers squeezing so hard against the stroller handle that Regina can feel her knuckles turn hard and bony under Regina’s touch. 

 

“Who?” Regina prompts, but Emma doesn’t respond, only quickens her pace and stares straight ahead. Regina sighs, incapable of leaving their conversation like this. “It’s okay to want him to try harder, you know.” 

 

“He thinks I’m never satisfied,” Emma murmurs. “That I push too hard and demand too much from him. Maybe he’s right.” She laughs suddenly, a little too wildly for nine am on a weekday morning. “Look at me right now, obsessing because he doesn’t care  _ exactly  _ which arbitrary amount I want him to about Hope. I have to…back off.” 

 

“Give him what he wants,” Regina notes dryly, and Emma looks at her askance. 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

Regina sighs, leading the way to Town Hall. Across the street, she can see Hook lurking outside Granny’s, his glower deepening when he catches sight of them. “You’re a people pleaser, Emma.” 

 

Emma’s mouth falls open in outrage. “I am not!” 

 

“Yes, you are.” 

 

“I’m the savior! Certified badass!” Emma points out, and Regina raises an eyebrow and waits. “And you think I just…roll over and give everyone what they…” She pauses, contemplating, and then looks up in dismay. “I  _ am  _ a little bit of a people pleaser, aren’t I?”

 

The mood is lightening at last, the pall of Hook-related discussion fading from it as Hook makes a beeline for them. “You make it very difficult for me to figure out what it is that you want,” she says wryly.

 

Emma blinks at her, and now she looks amused. “I don’t think I do, actually.” There’s a note of frustration in her voice that Regina can’t quite figure out, but Emma shrugs it off, opening the door to the station and holding it for Regina. 

 

Hook comes barreling in behind them, his eyes flashing at the sight of Regina, and Regina sees the way Emma’s back tenses, the way she already looks as though she might crumple. It’s a blessed relief when the enchanted mirror they’d hung up at Emma’s desk suddenly springs to life, and Lucy says, “Grandmas!” 

 

Emma spins around, looking with relief at the mirror. “Lucy!” she says, and Regina smiles despite the tension in the room. Seeing Lucy is always a treat, even though her appearance now can only bode ill. If Lucy is contacting them, then that means that Henry has news. “How are you?”

 

“There’s a ball tonight!” Lucy informs them, backing away from her mirror to spin around in her dress. “Aunt Tiana says that there are going to be girls my age from the other kingdoms, and I’m to show them around. Look.” She curtsies nearly perfectly, and Emma does a clumsy curtsy back. Regina applauds for both of them. Lucy says critically, “That was really bad, Gramma Emma.”

 

“I’m not much for curtsies,” Emma says, grinning. “More about punching.” 

 

“You’re going to love what Henry has to tell you, then,” Ella says dryly from behind Lucy. She comes into view, dressed up for a ball, too, and then nods as Henry joins them.

 

He’s distracted, his jacket off and his shirt buttoned wrong, and he has the author’s pen in his hand. “The wizard is back,” he says grimly. “At full power and in a realm where there are no witches who might be willing to stop him. I know what he did to you last time, Mom–“ 

 

“Just tell me where to go,” Regina says, and Emma slaps her arm  _ hard _ . “Ow.” 

 

Emma waves a hand, severing the connection before Henry can tell them her destination. “You’re not going. Not alone. Not after last time.” 

 

“I don’t even know  _ where _ I’m going,” Regina says, exasperated, “Since you cut the connection–“ 

 

“I’m coming with you,” Emma shoots back, and it’s Hook behind them who starts to laugh, low and bitter. “What?” Emma demands, whirling around. “What am I supposed to do, just let her–“ 

 

Hook is angry, eyes dark and acrimonious. “We’ve discussed this,” he says tightly. “We agreed–“ 

 

“You agreed,” Emma says, her voice low. “I didn’t say anything–“ 

 

“We  _ agreed _ ,” Hook says, raising his voice, “That you weren’t going to be putting yourself in unnecessary danger anymore.” 

 

Emma tilts her head. She’s on the verge of something hot and angry, but her voice is steely now, frighteningly soft. “This is what you call unnecessary? Regina’s  _ life  _ is on the line. Have you already forgotten how she looked after the last time she sparred with this wizard?” 

 

They’re talking as though Regina isn’t in the room, and Regina shifts, looking longingly at the door. Hook snaps, “So have her call someone else! Have her ask Zelena for backup–“ 

 

“She’s had to call Zelena for  _ fucking  _ backup enough over the past eleven years!” Emma says, her voice rising. “She doesn’t need Zelena! She needs me! I’m the–“ 

 

“Do  _ not  _ give me that savior shite again!” Hook snarls, sharp enough that Regina flinches. “You’re not the savior! You’re a wife! A mother!”

 

Emma doesn’t flinch, her fists balled together and her eyes flashing, and her word are hard and determined. “I have a responsibility to this world beyond being a mother,” she says, her voice still too loud to be calm.

 

“Yes,” Hook says, but his tone is mocking. “But somehow only when Regina’s around, suddenly,  _ love _ .” He spits out the endearment, bitter and furious, and Emma is wavering, close to caving as she always does. 

 

Hook senses it. He understands Emma in a way that Regina never had, even when they’d been enemies. Regina had been too blinded by Henry and her own fears to ever harness Emma’s insecurities effectively, had instead triggered Emma’s  _ fight  _ instinct instead of her  _ flight _ . Hook has mastered the trick to making Emma surrender instead, which shouldn’t even be  _ possible _ , in a better world. His voice softens, becomes almost solicitous, and he says as though he’s been terribly wronged, “Does our daughter mean nothing to you?”

 

And this time, he’d made the mistake that Regina had a dozen times over. Emma’s head snaps up, her eyes gleaming with fury, and she hisses, “Does she mean anything to  _ you _ ? Because you only seem to give a damn about her when it’s about keeping me from Regina.” She shakes with rage, with strength, with a full armament of defensive walls to protect her from Hook, and she’s suddenly a sight to behold.

 

And Regina doesn’t want to be here anymore, to see what happens when Hook begins methodically demolishing each of those walls as he’s done a thousand times before. Emma will hurt, will hurt as she never should have, and this is an argument that is so utterly about Regina that–

 

She can feel the guilt again, overwhelming as Hook’s voice rises. This is on her, yet again. She’d come back to town and ruined a relationship– a relationship she  _ hates _ that Emma loves– and she can’t–

 

She can’t  _ do  _ this, not to Emma, not anymore. She slips from the room when Emma’s face goes pale, as though she’s finally realized what she’s begun, as though this argument is about to shift to apology. Heart in her throat, she hurries to her office, ready to contact Henry again and get the information she needs.

 

Instead, she finds Henry himself waiting in her office, leaning back in her chair with his feet up and a book resting on his lap. “I thought you’d come back here,” he says, shrugging in his half-on formalwear. “Like hell I’m gonna let you go into another fight alone.” He tilts his head, peering behind her for a moment with his brow creased. “Kinda expected Mom to be here, though.” 

 

Regina sags, and Henry watches her, his own face falling at her distress. “Okay,” he says. “Back to you and me, then.” He reaches a hand out to her, and she crosses the room and takes it.

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t mention that the wizard was in Neverland,” Regina hisses to Henry, watching the trees warily. It had been bad enough seeing Pan during the final battle. Neverland brings back memories, few of them good, and she shivers as a stormy wind howls through the underbrush. Neverland comes with fear, pumping through her veins and refusing to remember that Henry is  _ here _ , beside her, and no one is going to take him from her–

 

She misses Emma so much that it hurts.

 

“It’s an alternate Neverland,” Henry mutters back. “Not ours. Ours is gone. I don’t even know if there’s a Pan here. Just a bunch of kids that the wizard is targeting. And we might have a chance to get the drop on him.” He crouches on a rock, writing furiously in the book, and then jerks a finger. “Let’s go back that way. He doesn’t know we’re here yet.” 

 

Neverland has a dampening effect on magic, can be claustrophobic when Regina flexes her fingers and tugs at her power. It’s serving them well here, where the wizard won’t have any warning if they play their cards right. She takes a breath and lets a fireball form slowly. “We go after his staff,” she says slowly. “His power is in his staff. Who do you think he’s targeting here?” 

 

There are boys underfoot, squabbling in a clearing not far from their hiding spot. Regina watches them carefully, sees a few who walk with Ry’s sullenness and others who leap around in enthusiasm. One is crying for his mother, and Regina’s eyes drift to him, to the way his head is down and his shoulders shake and something familiar and strong enough to sense courses through his veins. “Him,” she whispers.

 

“Yeah,” Henry says grimly. They settle down together in the underbrush, watching him through the trees, and Henry ventures, “So. Mom really didn’t come?” 

 

“She wanted to,” Regina says wearily. “Others supposed she had a responsibility to her daughter that trumps throwing herself in danger for me.”

 

“ _ Others _ ,” Henry echoes. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell him to shove it.” He makes a face. “I liked Killian better before I knew…Killian. Rogers. You know. Also before I knew that you were in lo–“ 

 

“Henry,” Regina warns, and Henry sighs and falls into silence. She hates this, hates defending Emma’s marriage, but Emma needs someone in her camp, and if Henry isn’t– “Emma loves him,” she reminds him. “And I don’t need her here. I have you.” She squeezes his arm.

 

Henry is less than convinced by this. “You know, Mom might be right about the unhealthy codependence,” he says wryly, and Regina scowls at him. 

 

“She said  _ what _ ?” 

 

Henry nudges her gently. “A joke. She’s just bitter that she wasn’t along for the ride,” he reminds her. “We chat a lot through the mirrors, you know. Mom really missed both of us while we were gone.” He leans back against a tree root tall enough that it would tower over the little boy they’re watching. “I don’t think she realized just how much she hates Storybrooke when it’s quiet and she’s alone.” 

 

“She wasn’t alone.” She had had her parents before the realms had opened up, had had Ry in this timeline, had had a town that adores her, and she’d had her husband.

 

“That’s not how she felt,” Henry murmurs. “Don’t you think she would have loved it with us? Fighting for a crown and warding off a curse and giving her some action that isn’t rescuing cats from trees? Mom used to talk about how much she wanted a happily ever after, but…” 

 

He stops in the middle of the thought. The little boy they’re watching is on the move.

 

He wipes his face with his sleeve and stumbles to his feet, dodging a bigger boy who moves toward him threateningly and disappears into the underbrush. Regina holds a finger to her lips and leads Henry into the bushes, moving parallel to where she can sense that the little boy is heading.

 

It takes a few long minutes before he stops at a little lake, and Regina watches from afar as he drops to his knees and dips his cupped hands into the water to wipe his tearstained face and then drink. He’s still sniffling, and Regina can only think of Henry at this age, all alone and hoping desperately that his mothers had followed him across realms.

 

This boy might not be so lucky. 

 

A portal crackles to life across the lake, and the boy stops drinking, his eyes wide as the wizard emerges from it. His staff is outstretched already, and he taps it against the ground once.

 

For the first time, Regina gets a good look at the staff. It works as a lightning rod, capturing magic from the air around them and sending it surging toward the boy. He cries out at once, lifted into the air with his stomach flung forward and his head flung back, and magic around him seems to  _ scream  _ at his pain. The air itself is distorting around him from the force of the magic that the staff is pulling–

 

Not from the air. From  _ him _ . 

 

Regina is moving as soon as she understands, the wizard in ecstasy as more magic pours into his staff and the boy is drained more and more. Until now, she’d thought only that the wizard had been capturing the magic that had been cast in his direction, but  _ no _ , that isn’t how this works at all, not for the wizard’s targets. Henry hisses, “Mom!” but she’s already moving away from him, racing across the lake with a fireball in her hand and charging at the wizard without a thought of strategy.

 

It’s the Emma Swan way, and it  _ works _ . The wizard is taken by surprise, swinging around as she yanks the staff from his hand, and he isn’t a wizard at all without it. He’s just a little man leaping at her with hatred in his eyes, and she squeezes his staff and feels  _ power _ , magic trapped within it that feels like baby Robin’s and the magic of the little boy across the lake. 

 

She has to break the staff, and she gathers her own magic and prepares to crack it in half when there’s a blinding blow against her head. The wizard wields his sword clumsily, but it’s enough that she blacks out for a moment, the staff falling from her grasp. “Mom!” Henry shouts– he has his own sword, and he has the boy under one arm as he races toward them– but the wizard only seizes his staff from her and disappears into the portal again.

 

Regina straightens, sighing in exasperation. At least they’d learned something valuable from this encounter, and they’re all in one piece. She rubs her head, heals it where it seems most tender and then takes the little boy from Henry. “What’s your name?” she asks gently.

 

He’s crying again, fat tears rolling down his little cheeks, and he clings to her as though she’s his mother. “I want to go home,” he sobs into her shoulder, and she thinks of Henry again, old pain as raw now as it’s ever been; and even Henry himself– full-grown, safe, and an able fighter– isn’t enough to assuage it.

 

The only person who might understand is realms away, kept from fighting at her side as they had all those years ago.

 

* * *

 

She thinks only of Emma once the boy is back home, reunited with a mother who weeps over him and covers him with adoring kisses. “Thank you, thank you,” the woman had said again and again, her sun-browned hands clasping Regina’s tightly. “You brought him home.” 

 

Henry returns to a ball that he’d already missed, and Regina steps through a portal back to her office, staring at herself in the mirror. There’s a bruise on her forehead that she’d healed sloppily, but this encounter with the wizard had been otherwise harmless. But he’d also been unharmed, which means that she only has a brief grace period before the next journey to stop him.

 

_ No more children _ . She clenches her fists and takes a breath, checking the time and date on her computer. She’d been gone for the bulk of a day, no more, and it’s evening now.

 

She considers working and then dismisses the idea. She’s worked enough today already. Instead, she packs up some files to finish up at home and heads back to her house, hoping that Ry has thought to heat up some leftovers instead of ordering pizza.

 

But the house smells like fresh soup and pot roast when she comes in, and she looks around in surprise. “Ry?” 

 

“In the living room,” he calls back, and she wanders there to find that he isn’t alone. Emma is sitting beside him, playing video games as though she belongs here, and she rises as soon as she sees Regina, letting her character crash off a cliff and die. 

 

“You’re hurt,” she whispers, touching the bruise where it’s tender, and removes her fingers only when Regina winces. “Did the wizard…?” 

 

“He got away again,” Regina admits. “It was– he went to Neverland this time.”

 

Emma sucks in a sharp, pained breath. “ _ Neverland _ . God. You went there alone.” In her voice is all the emotion that Regina knows intimately, and Regina can exhale at last.

 

“Not alone,” she murmurs, and Emma looks at her with wild, pained eyes. “Henry came along. We were fine. Brought a little boy home to his mother.” Emma squeezes her eyes shut, her breath stilted until it whooshes out, and Regina manages a smile. “Did you…is everything all right with you?” She doesn’t know why Emma is here, in her house, cooking dinner and playing video games as though all is well. Fights with Hook invariably end with Regina babysitting and trying her hardest not to think about  _ date night. _

 

“Yeah,” Emma says. “Yeah, it’s good. Come eat some soup.” She takes Regina’s hand and leads her to the kitchen, sitting her down and spooning out some soup for her. It’s bland, but Regina eats obediently, hungrier than she’d realized she’d been. “Can I–?” she begins, reaching for Regina’s bruise again. 

 

Regina nods and Emma’s magic floods her, warming her heart and healing her forehead fully. “You should get checked out for a concussion,” Emma says, her eyes still glued to the bruise. “I’ll drive you to the ER–“ 

 

“I’m  _ fine _ , Emma,” Regina says, and she scans Emma’s face for some clue as to where this is coming from. Emma’s lips are pursed, her brow creased, and something is not quite right. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing,” Emma says quickly, her fingers fumbling on Regina’s skin. “Really, really nothing.” She snatches her hand back and leaves it on the table, drawing mindless patterns in granite.

 

“Emma,” Regina murmurs, unconvinced. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” 

 

Emma doesn’t answer for a moment, and Regina fights rising impatience. “Emma–” 

 

Emma says abruptly, still looking down, “You know how…how everyone has a line in the sand? That one thing they aren’t going to compromise on?” Regina stares at her, uncomprehending, and Emma only watches the table. “I guess I always knew what mine was. I just didn’t  _ know _ , you know?” 

 

Regina blinks at her, baffled. “No.”  

 

“Killian knew, too.” Emma stares at her fingers, curls them into a fist and then uncurls them. “Why do you think he never really tried to…?” Her voice trails off, and she lifts her face at last to watch Regina. Regina sets her spoon down, her heart thumping from the force of Emma’s gaze on her. “When I realized you were gone– that you might  _ die _ because he’d tried to stop me…” 

 

Her eyes are dark, haunted, and Regina is caught in their grip, breathless and afraid of what Emma might say next. “Everyone has a line in the sand, you know?” Emma repeats, and she smiles, small and uncertain as Regina stares at her with dawning realization and building hope. “Can we…can we stay here for a while?”


	7. Chapter 7

Emma is fast asleep in the bed in the guest room, the book she’d been reading open on the bed next to her and Hope stretched out on her stomach. Regina watches them for a moment before she gently waves a hand, creating a magical guardrail around the bed, and walks in.

 

She pauses to look down at them, mother and daughter both snoring lightly and Emma’s hand resting on Hope’s back, and an unconscious smile curls up her lips. Slowly, she eases up the comforter that Emma had kicked to the edge of the bed and covers them up to Hope’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the baby’s hair before she edges out of the room. 

 

Hope shifts, her little head turning and then dropping again in sheer exhaustion, and Regina can feel her smile fade at the tiny face presented to her. Someday, Hope is going to get a little older and the similarities in their appearance won’t be so easily shrugged off. Someday, Hope is going to look in the mirror and see Regina’s face looking back at her and she’s going to have questions, more than Regina can ever answer. 

 

It’s a dilemma for another day.

 

She turns around, looks at the walls of the room and waves her hand again. Plain white walls turn to a landscape, grassy fields with frolicking animals and blue skies and a castle in the distance. For good measure, she flicks her wrist and a little yellow car appears on the wall, just against the foreground of the castle. 

 

She moves the little pack ‘n play from the room, and instead magics upstairs a crib that she and Ry had put together earlier. A glider goes in the corner, and a bookcase is filled with hard books for infants. When she steps out of the room, it feels like a nursery, and Ry is grinning at her from the hallway. “So you really want Mom to stay, huh?” 

 

“I want her to be comfortable here,” Regina says defensively. “We don’t know how long she’ll be here. It could be days, or weeks…” 

 

“Decades,” Ry offers. “Millennia?” 

 

“Don’t you have some math to study?” Regina says, lifting her chin and stalking past him. 

 

He grins, matching her pace, and says, “She likes flowers.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Mom. She still likes flowers. I asked her about it because my…” He shifts, still uncomfortable about the differentiation in Emmas. “The other Mom used to love flowers, you know? She had them everywhere in her rooms and she had a garden she’d tend to. I asked Mom once and she got kind of quiet and then said ‘I remember.’” He shrugs. “I think we could use some more flowers in the house, right?” 

 

Regina watches him, her heart very soft. Ry has so much of the weight of the world on his shoulders that she forgets sometimes that he isn’t just the past few years of pain and resentment, but a product of a fairytale upbringing of his own. He wants flowers, too, gentleness and beauty that they tend to forget in their day-to-day lives, and Hope should grow up with flowers as well. “I think so,” Regina murmurs.

 

In the morning, Emma doesn’t talk about the redecorated guest room, but she sniffs the vase of flowers on the kitchen table and kisses Regina’s cheek. “Morning. Coffee?” 

 

Regina jerks her thumb to the coffee maker, taking Hope out of Emma’s arms and tickling her stomach. Hope giggles wildly, and Regina smothers her in happy kisses and then settles her down in her seat. “How do you feel about yogurt, young lady?” she says, arching an eyebrow at the baby. Hope claps her hands and the yogurt from the fridge appears on her tray, open with a spoon already inside. 

 

Regina narrows her eyes at her. “Nice try. We don’t use magic for frivolous things,” she informs the baby, removing the yogurt from her tray and putting it back in the fridge. 

 

“So you hand painted the walls of my room while I was asleep?” Emma says, enough coffee in her system that she’s mastered snark. “I had no idea you were so talented.” 

 

Hope bangs her tray, the yogurt appearing back on it with another flash of purple, and Regina removes it again. “No,” she chides, and the yogurt disappears from her hand and reappears in front of Hope. 

 

Emma waves a lazy hand and makes the yogurt disappear, and Hope hits the tray again and lets out a whine when the yogurt doesn’t come back. “This isn’t frivolous,” she says at Regina’s glare. “This is a learning experience for Hope.” She has the yogurt in her hand, shimmering with some sort of force field, and she smirks at Hope, victorious over a nine-month-old.

 

Hope whimpers, her lower lip outthrust in a pout, and says, “Ma-ma!”

 

Emma freezes, the force field falling, and Hope claps her hands and reclaims the yogurt. “Mama!” she says in delight.

 

Emma stares at her, her face pale. “Did she just…?” 

 

“She did,” Regina says. “Slow to walk, quick to talk,” she adds, and Emma sucks in a breath, crosses the room and cups the baby’s little cheeks in hers.

 

“Mama,” Hope says, pleased.

 

Emma is crying– full-on  _ crying _ , tears slipping down her cheeks, and Regina blinks away some tears of her own and smiles down at them. Emma deserves this from her daughter, deserves to be acknowledged as  _ mama _ . Regina remembers Henry’s first  _ mama _ , an odd sort of validation after a full year of feeling as though she hadn’t been enough for him. And Emma has fought so hard for this little girl that she should–

 

Regina is on the outside, looking in, and she feels jealousy coursing through her veins, toxic and unwanted. _ No _ . Emma isn’t the problem here, and Emma doesn’t deserve her envy. They’re a team, and Regina is going to be  _ Aunt Regina _ when Hope is big enough to say that, and she is all right with that. 

 

She’s going to have to be.

 

* * *

 

If Hook is still coming to the station, Ry and Emma don’t mention him when they regale her with stories about their day. There are no discussions about Hook or about how he’s taking his wife abruptly moving out, and Regina is relieved and stymied at once. Relieved, of course, because the less Hook, the better. Stymied, because what does any of this  _ mean _ ? Is this a break, or are they split up for good? Is Emma done with Hook or is this a temporary lapse? 

 

All it’ll take, she decides one bitter evening, sitting with Hope in her glider as she sings to her, is Hook arriving at Regina’s door with flowers and sincere apologies and Emma will return to him. 

 

And it’s only a matter of time. She rocks with Hope, forces the tension to drain out of her skin, and sings again, a low lullaby she’d once sung with Henry. It’s in a language she doesn’t understand, an old relic of her father’s world, and Hope is lulled to sleep, eyes drifting closed and a smile on her face. 

 

She hears a movement in the doorway and looks up. Emma is leaning against the doorpost to the room, her eyes warm and wistful as she watches them. Regina watches her, feels a thrum of contentment to counter the bitterness of before.  _ Can you?  _ she mouths, gesturing to the baby, and Emma comes to retrieve Hope, bending down to reach her with her eyes still on Regina. Their faces are close enough that Regina can feel Emma’s breath on her lips, and Emma whispers, “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Regina echoes, a smile stealing onto her lips. Emma’s hands drift from Hope to Regina’s hands, toying with her fingers as she watches Regina. Regina wonders– dares to murmur, a tiny hope gleaming in her heart– “Do you want to–“ 

 

She’s interrupted by a pounding at the door downstairs, loud enough that it seems to shake the foundation of the house, and a distinct sound of what might be something metal scraping against the door.  _ Of course. Of course.  _ Hope wakes up, startled, and begins to cry, and Emma soothes her fretfully, kisses her and sets her down in her crib and then barges down the stairs. 

 

She throws open the door, heedless of Hook’s outstretched hook, and snaps, “What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?” 

 

Regina watches from the top of the stairs, keeping an eye on Hope still fussing in her crib. Hook is bleary-eyed and furious, waving his hook around wildly. “I want to see my daughter,” he demands. “She’s  _ mine _ . You can’t keep me from her.” 

 

“I can when you stink of rum,” Emma snarls, shoving him back. “You aren’t going anywhere near her like this. Sober up, cover that hook, and then try again,  _ if  _ Regina’s even okay with you being in the house–“

 

Hook looks up at Regina with sheer, unadulterated loathing on his face. Regina gazes right back at him silently. “My daughter,” he bites out. “ _ My  _ daughter.” 

 

In another realm, Regina had once known a Hook who had lost his daughter for a time, had respected him and felt for his tragedy. It’s very difficult to see even the similarities in their faces right now, let alone in their conception of fatherhood. 

 

Emma slams the door and sinks to the floor, and Regina hurries to her. “I’m sorry,” Emma says, leaning back against the door. “I didn’t want him to– he’s been like this for days. I kicked him out of the station when he showed up drunk and he keeps coming  _ back _ .” Her fists are clenching and unclenching, and she sounds helplessly lost. “I don’t know what to do, or if I’m even going to go back to him– but he’s Hope’s dad, you know?” 

 

Regina can feel the confession threatening to emerge at the very worst time, and she bites it back.  _ No _ . She’s seen enough of Hook using Hope as some tool in his conquest of Emma, and she won’t do the same. She can’t. If Emma even  _ believes  _ her at all, and doesn’t see this as some cruel manipulation to keep Hope away from Hook. “I’m Henry’s mother,” she says instead, going for wry. “You didn’t instantly start seeing me over that.” 

 

Emma laughs wetly. “Things might’ve been simpler if I did,” she says, and Regina’s heart skips a beat. Emma watches her, exhaling. “I did– I did overlook the fact that you were some kind of fairytale supervillain whenever you’d let me, though. And with Killian…we have a  _ daughter _ together. We’re always going to be connected. I owe it to Hope to give him a chance.” 

 

Regina’s spark of hope–  _ hope _ , what a fucking  _ awful  _ name– sputters and dies. “So that’s it? You’ll just...” 

 

“No. I don’t know,” Emma says, rubbing at her face in exasperation. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I know that it isn’t right to keep Hope from him now.” She looks up at Regina, eyes pleading. “Please, Regina. You’ve been…you’ve given us  _ everything _ , and I know this is the last thing you want. I can bring Hope to meet him somewhere if you’d prefer–“ 

 

“No,” Regina says hastily. Knowing Hook, he’d probably kidnap the girl and run. “No, of course he can come here. He’s her…” She clears her throat. “He’s her father.” 

 

Redemption is a hell of a pill to swallow.

 

* * *

 

And it only gets worse when Hook shows up again, sober and clean with a little rattle in one hand and his other the false hand instead of the hook. “For our little girl,” he says grandly, holding out the rattle with a smile for Emma. She smiles back, but Regina is relieved to note that it’s strained.

 

Hope is crawling through the living room into the foyer, and she tilts her head and looks up at Hook with innocent curiosity. She doesn’t cry when he scoops her up, just bats at his face interestedly and smiles. “She’s a happy baby,” Emma says, her voice still guarded. 

 

“She’s happy her papa is back,” Hook corrects her, and his smile at Hope is almost genuine, though not nearly as genuine as the one he points at Emma. “The whole family, together again.” 

 

Emma leans her head against the wall, watching them with wary eyes that seem to soften as the afternoon goes on. Hook has discovered the key to Emma’s heart, and he plays along perfectly, sits with Hope and exclaims over her and lets her climb happily all over him. Regina has to leave the room, her blood boiling at the thought of enduring this daily until Hook gets what he wants. 

 

She makes dinner alone. Ry had vanished to the station as soon as he’d seen Hook in the living room and Emma is still keeping an eye on Hope and Hook, drifting into the kitchen less and less as the afternoon continues. Regina can hear voices from the living room, Hook shameless in his pursuit of Emma. “Do you remember when she was first born?” he says, and Regina slices a zucchini so hard that she cuts into her thumb. She heals it swiftly, her jaw clenching.

 

Emma says, “She was so tiny. I can’t believe she ever fit here.” Regina can imagine Emma patting her stomach, can imagine Hook taking this opportunity to look Emma over with a leer.

 

“Those first few days,” Hook says musingly. “When we were on our own and together, just the three of us…they were some of the happiest days of my life.” 

 

Regina squeezes the knife hard, decides that it’d be best to set it down before this conversation progresses. Emma says, “And Ry.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Ry was there, too.” 

 

A pause, then, “Yes, of course.”

 

“And I had postpartum depression,” Emma says, her voice tight. “They were some of the hardest days of my life. Why are my hardest moments always your happiest?” 

 

Regina picks up the knife again. Hook says, “You know I didn’t mean it like that, love. We were good together then, when you still needed your husband instead of running off to  _ Regina _ every time you wanted some comfort–“ 

 

“Killian,” Emma says, and she sounds guilty now, close to folding when she’d been strong before. 

 

Hook senses it, too, and there is silence in the room for a moment, just the sounds of movement across the floor. Regina’s hand shakes. The knife was a mistake. “Love,” Hook says, and he sounds closer now, and closer to Emma as well. “I want to know where we went wrong. Why you kept choosing Regina over me–“ 

 

“Killian,  _ no _ ,” Emma says, and Regina knows that either reassurance or kissing will follow. She doesn’t know which will be worse. She sets the knife down deliberately and turns on the food processor instead, dropping potato chunks into it and letting the sound drown out whatever is happening in the living room.

 

When she stops the food processor, the living room is silent and Hook is leaning against the fridge behind her. “I thought we could have a chat while my wife is upstairs changing a diaper,” he says casually, and Regina turns, her skin crawling at  _ my wife _ . 

 

She keeps a false smile on her face, one she knows Hook can see right through. “How has your afternoon been with Hope? Is that the most time you’ve ever spent with her?” 

 

Hook sneers. “She’s a cute little tyke. Looks just like her papa,” he says smugly. 

 

Regina tilts her head, refusing to let him see the revulsion she feels at  _ papa _ . “I don’t see the resemblance,” she says icily. 

 

“There’s nothing like a quiet afternoon with my wife and daughter,” Hook says, ignoring her comment. “You’ve made things rough enough for us until now, and it’s time for them to come home.” He fixes Regina with a cold look. “Emma loves me.  _ Chose _ me, and your pathetic mooning eyes are never going to change that, nor change the fact that we have a family now.”

 

Regina doesn’t trust herself to respond. Hook goes on, triumphant. “You claim to care about my daughter,” he says. “Then you know that she deserves  _ us _ – a mother and a father who love her. Not some…some makeshift family of her mother, a brother who isn’t  _ real _ , and–“ 

 

“Ma-ma!” Regina whips around. Hope has returned, her pants gone and a fresh diaper on her bottom as she crawls across the kitchen floor at top speed, headed for Regina. “Mama!” she says again, more insistently, and she lifts her arms up to Regina.

 

Regina freezes, stares down at Hope in disbelief, and Hope reaches for her again. “ _ Mama _ ,” she whines, and Regina reaches down to lift her on automatic, her heart clenching so tightly that she can’t breathe. Hope curls up against her, babbling up a storm, and Regina looks up with an expression she can’t school and finds Hook’s glare again.

 

Hook’s face is a mask of fury, and Regina has never been afraid of him before this moment, when he stares at Regina as though he doesn’t care that she’s holding a baby, as though he might attack her where she stands. There is no response she’s willing to give that might appease him, and she gathers up her magic, keeps it just out of sight. “Give me the baby,” Hook growls, taking a step forward. “Give me my bloody daughter.” 

 

She doesn’t trust him with Hope, not now, when he looks wild and uncontrolled. “Stand down,” she says, her voice like steel. 

 

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Hook snarls, and he moves forward with something in his eyes that has Regina hold Hope tighter to her. Hope is turning her head to him, her lip quivering as though she knows that something is wrong, and Regina balances her in her left arm, calculating how she can maneuver the baby out of the way when she needs to use her magic. 

 

“Stand. Down,” she says again, and Emma appears in the doorway at last, her face pale as she takes in the scene in front of her. 

 

Hook whirls around, explosive in his fury. “You did this,” he hisses. “You’ve always wanted it, haven’t you?” 

 

Emma watches him warily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, “But you need to leave.  _ Now _ .” 

 

Regina clutches Hope to her, her heart still pounding, and Emma gives her a tight, worried smile as she watches Hook. “Take Hope upstairs, okay?” she says to Regina, her eyes fixed on Hook again.

 

Regina nods jerkily, backing out of the room and cradling Hope in her arms as she carries her up the stairs. She can hear low voices speaking angrily from downstairs, though she can’t make out the words even as they begin to rise. 

 

She doesn’t want to make out the words. Hope is tugging at her hair, babbling, “Mama, Mama,” and Regina closes the door to the guest room behind them and sets Hope down on the bed. Hope sits, watching her with furrowed brow as she gets down onto her knees opposite the baby.

 

Regina says in a choked voice, “You can’t call me that, Hope.” 

 

“Mama?” Hope says inquiringly. 

 

“Aunt Regina,” Regina corrects her, speaking through a lump in her throat. 

 

Hope blinks at her, uncomprehending. “Mama,” she repeats, waving her hands to slap at Regina’s face.

 

“Aunt Regina. Regina.  _ Gina _ ,” Regina finally tries out of sheer desperation. “Can you say that? Can you…?” Her voice catches and she can feel frustrated tears threatening to fall. “Hope, I can’t be your mother. I  _ can’t _ .” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to more than anything, I swear. But I can’t– You deserve the family you were meant to have, and I don’t have a place in it, my darling– my sweet–“ 

 

_ Not mine _ , she reminds herself, and she’s blinking faster, tears slipping free. “I love you,” she whispers through the tears, and she lets out a strangled sob. “I love you so much. And I swear I’m going to be…the most devoted godmother any girl could have.” Hope’s fingers tangle onto Regina’s necklace, and Regina doesn’t pry them away, lets her pull and pull and feels it against her neck like a reminder that she’s still here. 

 

“You’re never going to lack for anything, baby,” she murmurs. “You’re never going to have a moment when you won’t know that I’m right there with you. Whatever…whatever happens with your mother, when she goes back to  _ him _ , I’m never going to leave you, all right?” Regina reaches for her, caresses her hair, gazes upon a tiny marvel that can never be hers. “I’ll always be your Aunt Regina,” she chokes out. She’s determined to be everything Hope needs, to give her everything that Emma will allow her to. Her daughter–  _ not  _ her daughter– Hope will have the world.

 

Hope touches her cheek, moves her fingers along the tear tracks on Regina’s skin, and says stubbornly, “Mama.” 

 

Regina shakes her head, tries to correct her again, and leans against the bed instead, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

 

She sits there for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Emma pokes her head in after what feels like hours, after Regina’s tears have dried and Hope has drifted off in her crib. “Regina,” she whispers, her face falling as she catches sight of the mess that Regina must be right now. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I was…I was trying to get rid of him and he wouldn’t go.”

 

Regina manages a smile. “He wants to spend time with Hope,” she says weakly.

 

Emma gives her a look. “Right,” she says. “That’s why he spent today hitting on me. Do you think I’m an idiot?” she asks at Regina’s startled face, then ruefully, “Don’t answer that.” 

 

“I thought you wanted it,” Regina admits, standing up to leave the room so they won’t wake up Hope. She goes to her bathroom, rinsing off her face while Emma waits silently in the doorway, her eyes averted. “I heard you talking.” 

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Did you hear him trying to kiss me? I had to ‘suddenly smell a dirty diaper’ to get away.” She sighs as Regina looks at her in gratified relief. “I don’t know what I want,” she admits. “I want…I want to do right by Hope. Nothing else really matters.” 

 

_ Yes _ . They’re in agreement. Regina and Emma have had their squabbles about who should do the parenting, but they’ve always been in tune when it comes to how it should be done. “You’re a good mother,” Regina murmurs, and she clears her throat, feeling that lump threatening to form again. “But– your happiness does matter. I thought we’d established that. Doing right by Hope requires you to do right by yourself, too.” 

 

Emma lets out a disgruntled exhale. “So…what? What exactly is right for her? Do I kick Killian to the curb, or do I–“ She shakes her head sharply. “No. I’m not talking to you about this.”

 

She says it like a decision she’s already made, and Regina follows her as Emma paces across the room. “You  _ should _ talk about it,” Regina says. “You know that he’ll–“ She remembers, too late, exactly how Emma feels about Regina critiquing her relationship. “You know you don’t want to jump into anything without thinking about–“ 

 

“I’m not talking to you about this,” Emma repeats, her voice tight.

 

“Why the hell not?” Regina demands. Emma has barely talked to her about Hook since she’d  _ left _ him, and Regina knows that she isn’t talking to anyone else. Her parents are in the Enchanted Forest, Henry is a realm away, and Ry is even less impartial than Regina is. Emma  _ has  _ to talk to someone, and Regina will do whatever she can– “Why the hell  _ won’t _ you–”

 

Emma spins around, her eyes flashing. “Because you don’t talk to me!” she bites out furiously, and then looks horrified at her own fury. Regina recoils. Emma takes a breath, and then says, “I can’t– I can’t do this thing anymore where I confide in you and you repress the fuck out of everything like some…tortured antihero. We used to  _ talk _ . And now you talk and you don’t tell me  _ anything _ , because–“ 

 

She’s shaking her head, but there’s deep resignation in her words, resignation that frightens Regina. Emma is going to withdraw again, has already withdrawn, and it’s Regina’s own fault for not being upfront with her. Something had broken between them and Regina has known it for months, for  _ years _ , but she’s only been ignoring it in the hopes that it’ll disappear, and now… “No,” Regina says shakily. “No, Emma, I tell you everything I  _ can _ –“ 

 

“No, you don’t,” Emma says, scornful and hurt. “You just spent an hour crying because Hope called you  _ mama _ and you won’t even talk to me about that.” She looks on the verge of frustrated tears, lost and so, so hurt. Hurt because of  _ Regina _ , and Regina can’t bear it. “You don’t tell me why you left and you don’t  _ ever  _ tell me what I mean to you–“ 

 

“I’m in love with you,” Regina says, and Emma stops speaking. Regina regrets it, is relieved to have said it, is trapped where she stands in an admission she never should have said. “I’ve been in love with you since…Neverland, maybe. Earlier. I don’t know.” She feels unmoored, standing in the middle of her room without anything to lean on, anywhere to put her hands, anything to do but speak the naked truth. “So yes, I couldn’t talk to you about any of that.” 

 

Emma stares at her, her face as pale as though she’s seen a ghost. “In…in love?” she repeats. “With…?” 

 

“How could I not be?” Regina whispers, and this is agony. This is what’s going to take Emma away from her for good. “Emma, you are…everything that is good about this world. And you saw someone worth caring about in me and I was– what else was I supposed to do but fall in love with you?” Her words are jumbled and uncertain, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head as though she can’t believe it. “Years of watching you with  _ him _ , of seeing you– you loving someone else,  _ god,  _ I could do it all for your sake until the first time we kissed.” 

 

She can still feel it like a physical pain, like  _ longing _ , like Emma Swan in front of her giving her everything she’d ever dreamed of. Emma had kissed her and Regina had been lost forever, and nothing could be as it had once been. “I’m sorry,” she croaks out, stumbling toward Emma. “I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you about this. I was trying to do right by you, too.” 

 

Emma takes a step forward and they’re kissing desperately, clinging to each other with the sort of fire that they usually save only for their magic. Regina runs her fingers through Emma’s hair, again and again, and Emma’s hands are tight on her back, clutching onto her painfully. Regina kisses her, melts under Emma’s kisses, is shoved back against a wall as Emma slides her fingers up Regina’s shirt.

 

There is no speaking, nothing but panting and sighs, and Regina doesn’t allow herself to think about any of this– of anything but  _ here _ , Emma’s lips are kiss-swollen and trembling.  _ Here _ , the smooth curve of Emma’s neck.  _ Here, _ the sound Emma makes when Regina grips her ass and squeezes.  _ Here _ , the way Emma cries when Regina slips her cardigan off and kisses her bare shoulder. 

 

Emma’s knee slips between Regina’s legs and Regina chokes out another sound, riding it almost unconsciously for a moment. Emma exhales against her skin, leaves purple bruises against her neck, and Regina is breathless with wanting right up until Emma says, “No.  _ No _ .” and staggers back from Regina in a sudden movement. 

 

She yanks her cardigan back on, her eyes hollow, and she demands, “Where the  _ fuck _ do you get off, Regina Mills?” Regina gapes at her, still mindless from the kisses, and Emma bites out, “How much time? How many  _ years _ did you keep this from me? And you– you called it  _ unwinding _ ? What the fuck? What the  _ fuck _ ?” 

 

The emptiness has faded from her eyes, replaced with fury, and Regina can only stare in consternation. “I was doing the right thing,” she says defensively. “Something  _ you  _ and yours taught me. We had a friendship–“ 

 

“Built on a  _ lie _ !” Emma says, outraged. “How was any of this the right thing? We could have been– I would have–“ 

 

Regina catches the lie before Emma can speak it. “No, you wouldn’t have,” she says archly. “I never even had a chance. Our entire relationship would have been ruined, and you would have chosen Hook.” 

 

“You don’t know that! You never even gave me a choice!” Emma shoots back. “You’ve been keeping this from me for years,  _ god _ –“ She shakes her head, disbelieving, tears still slipping down her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how many times over the years I’ve wanted this?” she demands, and Regina gapes at her. “Wanted  _ us _ ? And you never said a  _ word _ and now I’m…” Emma gestures, incensed, at herself. “I’m married with a  _ kid _ , Regina. What am I supposed to do now?” 

 

Regina shakes her head. “I’m not going to regret Hope being here,” she says rapidly, protective at even the possibility. 

 

Emma’s eyes flash. “I didn’t say that I would,” she snaps, livid. “Don’t put words in my mouth. You’ve put enough of them in there already.” She’s fuming, fists clenched and eyes dark, and this is too much. This isn’t  _ fair _ , because Emma isn’t a victim here any more than Regina is.

 

“You never said anything, either,” she says, her voice low.

 

Emma just watches her, lips pressed into a thin line before she speaks. “I tried,” she bites out. “I’ve been trying all year, and you shrug me off and act as though I haven’t said anything at all. I  _ love  _ you, you  _ asshole _ . I was ready to leave Killian for you, and you told me you didn’t want any of this.” She waves between them, and Regina stares at her in horror, with deep, aching regret. 

 

She hadn’t let Emma finish. She’d never let Emma finish, because she’d been terrified of  _ them  _ being finished for good. Somehow, a part of her had always clung to hope, to the tiniest belief that they might have had a someday, and it had backfired instead. “I didn’t know,” she says numbly. “I thought it was what you wanted.” 

 

“Did you think you were being noble?” Emma says, sneering at her with so much hurt that Regina wants to run to her and hold her now, to risk being slapped for an embrace. “You were a coward. Fuck you.” She wheels around again, stalking to the door. “Fuck all of this.” 

 

Regina’s heart cracks like it hasn’t in so long, and she closes her eyes and pleads, “Please don’t leave here, Emma.” If Emma goes– back to her house or to a room at Granny’s or  _ anywhere _ , whisks herself and Hope away– 

 

Emma stops, her back stiff and shoulders very straight. “I don’t really have a choice anymore, do I?” she says coolly.

 

Stated like that, it’s cold and impersonal. “Emma,” Regina murmurs, grief-stricken apology in her voice.

 

Emma’s shoulders fall. “No. I won’t go,” she promises, defeat in her voice. “I just can’t…” 

 

She inhales a shuddering breath and steps out of the room, slipping quietly into the guest room before Regina can follow. Regina sobs, sliding to the floor of her room, leaning her forehead against her knees and drowning in a sea of regrets. 


	8. Chapter 8

For all their years of complicated tension, Regina has rarely had the unpleasant experience of Emma’s anger. Regina has had her own moments from time to time, and they’ve both gotten snippy at each other when they’re under pressure, but Emma displaying genuine  _ anger  _ toward her hasn’t happened since the first few weeks after the Dark Curse. 

 

It’s a nightmare. Regina smiles tentatively at her at the breakfast table the next morning and Emma stares back, her eyes still dark with hurt, until Regina looks down again. Ry glances between them, his brow furrowing, and he says, “Everything okay in here?” 

 

“Just dandy,” Emma says through her teeth. Hope bangs a spoon against her high chair tray, demanding attention, and Emma’s face crumples when she looks at her, lost and lonely and betrayed.

 

Regina says, “I’ll feed her. Why don’t you two head out to work together?” 

 

Emma’s shoulders stiffen. Ry says, “Or I could leave right now because you’re both  _ exhausting _ .” He looks between them, sudden realization in his eyes, and he says, “Oh, man. One of you said something.” He swings his head back and forth, examining them both, and his eyes zero in on Regina. “You did, didn’t you?” He turns back to Emma, accusation in his eyes. “And you–“ 

 

“She didn’t do anything,” Regina says tightly. “Ry, this is between us.” 

 

Emma clears her throat. “Regina–“ Just forming Regina’s name with her lips is enough for Emma to freeze up for a moment. “It doesn’t matter, Ry,” she says. “Let’s just go.” 

 

“You didn’t eat,” Regina points out, looking at Emma’s untouched bowl of cereal.

 

Emma ignores her, clearing it off and heading out of the kitchen with only a kiss pressed to Hope’s head.

 

Regina watches her go in quiet agony, Ry behind Emma, and she turns her attention to Hope instead. “Hello, little girl,” she murmurs. “Let’s see what we can do about this yogurt.” 

 

Emma drops by at lunch, Regina finds her pacing outside the office as though she isn’t sure if she’s going to knock, her fingers clenching and unclenching from fists. “I just needed to see her,” she mutters, avoiding Regina’s eyes, and Regina quietly moves to the side and lets Emma in to join Violet and Hope on the floor. Emma makes conversation with Violet and doesn’t look up at Regina once, and Regina watches her from her desk and silently aches. 

 

Somehow, this is worse than she’d expected. She’s kept this secret for so long, but a part of her had imagined that it would be met with something… _ better _ , not worse. Some sort of resolution where Emma would kiss her cheek and thank her and they’d be all right from then on. Some magical ending where Emma might choose her and they could be  _ happy _ .

 

Instead, she’s left with an odd grief, mingled with defeat. Emma had said– Emma had all but said that they’d  _ had  _ a chance, that they’d missed their chance because Regina had waited too long. Regina had never imagined that Emma could possibly love her back, not when Emma has always been too good for everyone around her. Regina had never imagined the fury and despair that Emma had responded with, had never imagined that her feelings could elicit them.

 

From the floor, Hope says, “Mama,” and Regina and Emma both turn at once. Regina remembers a moment too late and raises her hand to her hair as though she’d turned to adjust it. When she looks up, Emma is watching her, a shared grief in her eyes.

 

“I have to go,” Emma says abruptly, and she scrambles to her feet and escapes Regina’s office without another word.

 

And Hope is another complication, because if Emma had been furious about Regina hiding feelings from her, then she’ll never forgive Regina hiding Hope’s potential  _ parentage _ from her. But at this point– 

 

Regina refuses to use Hope as a pawn, as a push to bring Emma closer to her. She knows how swiftly Emma will fold and forgive if she believes it’s in Hope’s best interest. Maybe this is offering Emma a different kind of choice, one that lets her hold onto her anger and lets them sort this out without complications.

 

Maybe Emma’s right and Regina is a coward hiding beneath lofty ideas of what is meant to be noble.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is as agonizing an affair as breakfast had been. Emma is still not ready to forgive, and Regina bears it in silence, fries salmon croquettes as Emma makes the soup beside her, both of them with arms tight by their sides and their faces drawn. Emma drops a parsnip into the soup and it splatters a little, droplets of water flying from the pot and landing in Regina’s frying pan. The oil splashes, burning Regina’s hand, and she hisses in pain. 

 

Emma is holding her hand an instant later, her thumb rubbing the angry red streak on Regina’s skin, and Regina looks up and meets her eyes. Emma’s gaze is steady, tormented, wanting without a word, and Regina heals the burn on her own, red fading away beneath Emma’s touch. 

 

From the other room, Ry says, “Hope just climbed a stair!” and Emma drops Regina’s hand, both of them staring at each other in silence, and they rush to the staircase without another word.

 

_ Climbed a stair  _ winds up being a grand exaggeration for Hope managing to balance her upper body on the bottom step, but Regina still immediately goes to the garage to find the custom-made baby gate that she’d had Marco build when Henry had been a baby. “We can’t take chances,” she says sternly as Emma installs the gate for them. “If she experiments with the stairs, it’ll be while someone is watching her.” 

 

Hope beams up at them. “Mama,” she says, reaching out to Emma, who doesn’t respond. Disappointed, she tries another tack. “Reeeee.” 

 

Ry looks delighted. “You’re my  _ favorite  _ sister,” he assures her, scooping her into his arms. “Who’s your favorite brother?” 

 

“Mama!” Hope says happily. “Mamamamama.” 

 

Ry looks disgruntled. “She  _ said _ my name. I heard it. Didn’t you hear it?” 

 

“Maybe she was trying to say hungry,” Emma suggests, and Ry scoffs. Emma laughs, her eyes gentling for a moment, but it fades when she sees Regina’s smile.

 

Regina joins in, attempting to keep her voice casual, “Or she saw the gate and wants to be free.” Ry makes a disgusted noise and Emma snorts despite herself, and Regina’s beginning to think that they might move past this when there’s a banging on the door.

 

Regina knows who it is immediately. Only one person would be here now to sabotage the beginnings of reconciliation. Emma sighs. “I’ll get it,” she says, and the mood falls again. Hook talks loudly and insistently at the door, and Regina tests the baby gate one more time and then disappears into the living room with Hope.

 

Hook has his hand on Emma’s arm as he manages to wheedle out an invitation to see Hope, and Regina watches him warily as he approaches. “I would really prefer not to see Hope with  _ her _ every time I’m here,” he grits out, and Emma sighs.

 

“This is Regina’s house.” 

 

“And you could be at home with me,” Hook says darkly. “Instead of separating me from my  _ daughter _ –“

 

“Stop. Stop,” Emma says, holding up a hand, and she looks so tired that Regina is overwhelmed with guilt at pushing too hard, as hard as Hook does. “Okay. We’ll go out somewhere. Okay? Just for an hour or two before Hope’s bedtime–“ 

 

Hook looks triumphant. “That sounds perfect, love,” he says, and he swoops forward and manages to peck Emma’s cheek before she ducks away from him and grabs Regina’s arm, pulling her into the study and closing the door. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, looking vulnerable and exhausted and torn. “I know you don’t–“ 

 

Regina aches for her, for the situation she’s been thrust into partially by Regina’s own doing. She takes a tentative step forward, knowing instinctively what Emma needs– just as she does when it’s Henry or Ry in pain– and she hesitates. They don’t do this often, if at all, but then Emma says in a small voice, “Regina?” and Regina lurches forward and hugs her.

 

It’s somehow as intimate as a kiss. Emma buries her face in Regina’s shoulder, her arms encircling Regina, and Regina holds her tightly, securely, wraps her arms around Emma and lets her cling to her as she murmurs, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You have  _ nothing _ to apologize for.”

 

Emma mumbles something inaudible into her skin, and Regina brushes her lips against Emma’s hair and holds her for another moment before Emma extricates herself, avoiding Regina’s eyes. “Thanks,” she says tightly, only a tremble to her step belying her true emotions, and she slips out of the room without another word.

 

She’s already outside before Regina exits the study, pushing the stroller with Hook walking beside her. His hand is on her back and her shoulders are stiff and uncomfortable, but she turns and talks to him more than once before they’re out of sight. 

 

It’s only a matter of time, Regina knows with a sinking heart, and she swallows and forces a painful smile.

 

Emma will get what she wants, and they’re going to be okay in the end. The anger will pass, the confession will fall back into the awkward space between them, and they will quietly recognize that they’d just been a little too late for each other. Hook will continue to be an irritating fixture in Regina’s life, and Hope–

 

She blinks back tears.  _ The most devoted godmother any girl could have _ , she vows, and she wraps her arms around herself and walks outside, wandering down the path with her eyes wet and the sky greying to night. She stares up at the stars, memorizes their patterns and wonders at the immensity of the world, of every universe and every realm and every possibility out there. Somewhere out there, there must be a realm where Hope and Emma are hers. 

 

Somewhere out there, but she knows already that she will never encounter it. 

 

She maps out the lines between the constellations and finds new shapes within them, elvish runes and castles and an outline of a woman with a sword.  _ Emma _ , she knows at once. It can only be Emma. It’s always Emma. 

 

She sighs and shifts her head down, looking ahead instead, and she freezes. 

 

A portal is opening in front of her. A familiar portal, swirling orange and menacing before her, and Regina feels a chill as the edge of the staff emerges first, glowing with dangerous power. She throws out a hand– but  _ no _ , it won’t be enough, it’s never been enough before–

 

Through sheer bravado, she hurls herself forward and seizes the staff before it emerges from the portal in full, hanging onto it and yanking the wizard forward. The portal rushes around her, bright enough that it burns her eyes and skin, and she’s overcome by it, shaking as the energy pulls at her skin. She sees a flash of a shocked face– the wizard, trying desperately to retreat in his own portal– and then he says, “He said you wouldn’t expect me!” and Regina’s grip on the staff loosens in surprise.

 

“Who said?” she demands, scrabbling for it again, and the wizard lets a shock of magic fly from the staff. It’s muddled in the portal and lands with little power, but it’s enough that Regina is shaken from the portal and stumbles back, a lamp post halting her fall as the portal fades back into nothingness. “Who said?” she repeats, but she already knows.

 

It takes one teleport to Gold’s shop to confirm it. Alice has been tending to the shop from time to time, but it’s empty now, and it’s been wrecked. There are ingredients everywhere, spell books open on the counter, and Regina grits her teeth and teleports to where she can sense Emma, somewhere down Main Street.

 

Hook is speaking to Emma, and they’re arguing again, low voices that have Hope fussing worriedly. Hope is  _ all right _ , safely ensconced in her stroller, and Regina charges up to them, yanks Hook around by the shoulder, and slaps him across the face. 

 

“You idiot,” she growls, and it’s never felt more satisfying than now, when she’s so furious she can hardly breathe. “You  _ idiot! _ ”

 

He gapes at her, and Emma says, “Regina!” sounding alarmed. “What’s going on?” 

 

“This _absolute_ _imbecile_ summoned the wizard to our realm!” Regina snarls, and she slaps Hook again. He sidesteps it this time, but her nails still rake across his cheek, leaving ragged scratches on the skin. “What were you thinking? Why would you _do_ this?” 

 

“How else was I supposed to protect my family?” Hook demands, defiant. “You’ve been digging your claws into it deeper and deeper, trying to steal what’s  _ mine _ –“ 

 

“Oh, my god,” Emma says faintly, and she takes a step back, eyes dark and narrowed. “Oh, my god. You summoned the wizard  _ here _ ? You brought him here to…to hurt Regina–“ She scoops up Hope, hugging her to her as she takes a step back. “You haven’t listened once when we’ve discussed him, have you?” 

 

“He isn’t after me,” Regina says scornfully, and she shifts, a hand reaching instinctively for Hope. “My magic is too cultivated already for his staff. He’s been going after children– children with  _ magic _ .” Hope is content with them gathered around her, oblivious to this new threat on her life, and she reaches happily for Regina. “It’s why he let Lucy go, and Neal in that other realm. And now you’ve brought him here to put Hope in danger.” 

 

Hook stares at them with dawning realization, his face very stiff, and he says finally, “None of this would have happened if  _ you  _ hadn’t tried to take my family away from me! And you–“ He rounds on Emma. “As though I don’t know exactly how willing you are,  _ love _ , for her to take you. I see the way you two look at each other,” he sneers, and Emma’s face twists, the anger softening into guilt. “I see how easily you run when she beckons. You would run off on a whim with  _ her  _ and leave the father of your child in the dust, and you dare to look at  _ me _ like I’ve betrayed  _ you _ ? How–“ 

 

Emma is the one to slap him now, hard and furious, her eyes glowing with rage. Hook stares at her, wild-eyed, his mouth opening to retort, and Emma says in a low voice, “If either of them gets hurt by this wizard, I will pull out your heart and crush it myself.” There is no more softness in her eyes, no guilt strong enough to overpower this cold fury.

 

Hook looks frantically at her, at Regina’s seething rage, and back at Emma. “I didn’t know,” he says, and only now is his outrage beginning to be replaced by panic. “I did it because I love you,” he says pleadingly. 

 

Emma looks steadily at him. “That get-out-of-jail-free card has expired,” she says, and she turns on her heel and walks back toward Mifflin Street.

 

* * *

 

The house is warded against portals. It had been an inconvenience that Henry had complained about, no less so when they’d just called him over from his realm for backup, but she’s grateful for it now. She hurries Henry inside and slams the door closed, safe in the house where the wizard can’t get to them.

 

Hook is still there as they make contingency plans, but he’s muted, lurking in the corner and staring from Hope to Emma to Hope again with a rising despair.  _ Good _ , Regina thinks savagely, but she spares very little time for him. “We need backup,” she argues now. “Zelena might be what we need to fight this wizard.” 

 

“Why can’t we pick up an Emma and Regina from another realm?” Emma protests. “We’re always stronger together. Henry can find–“ 

 

Henry sighs, leaning back against the couch. “I can find anyone,” he agrees. “But I don’t know if we have the time to start planning some grand offensive.” He exchanges a wordless glance with Ry. “I can write a message that’ll bring Zelena here. But that’s about all we can do. The wizard’s plan is to attack as soon as we move. We have to stay put.” 

 

Emma nods jerkily, pacing, and Regina stands very still, fists clenched. Ry is holding Hope, curled up on the other end of the couch and letting her play with his ears, his eyes flickering between his mothers and brother. “We need to coax him out,” he says suddenly. “Bait him and then take the offensive. His power is in his staff, right? So we get the staff.” 

 

“I am not using my daughter as bait,” Emma says definitively. “If he gets her–“ She stops moving, her eyes red and terrified. The anger is all but gone now, replaced with the mutual panic that always accompanies their family in danger, and Regina dares to put a hand on her wrist.

 

“We stay put,” Regina echoes Henry, and Emma swings around again, lifts Hope tightly into her arms and holds her as though she’s afraid she might disappear. 

 

“Okay. Fine.” 

 

It’s Henry who tugs Emma down to the couch, wraps an arm around her and lets her slump against him. “You’ve beaten much worse for me,” he reminds her. “We always win.”

 

“And how long until the time we don’t?” Emma says helplessly.

 

Hook says, “Love–“ 

 

“Don’t talk to me,” Emma snarls. Ry glares at Hook. Regina is suddenly gripped by a compulsion to leave the room.

 

She pours glasses of cider for everyone absentmindedly, desperate to do  _ something _ . Hope is in danger. Regina has failed to stop this menace, and now Hope is paying the price for it. If they lose Hope– if  _ Emma  _ loses Hope–

 

“It’s such a damned  _ terrible _ name,” she chokes out, and that’s how she notices that she’s nearly in tears, nearly already close to despair.  _ No. No _ . She can’t give up. Her family needs her. 

 

She balances the drinks on a tray and inspects herself the little magnetic mirror she keeps on the fridge in case Henry calls while she’s cooking. Her eyes are red, but so are Emma’s. She won’t let anyone see any weakness, not when they need her to be strong.

 

Her reflection flickers in the frame. 

 

She stiffens, her hands tightening on the tray, and then her reflection is gone and the wizard’s sneering face is in her mirror. “Get out,” she hisses.

 

He smiles with little humor. “The wards you have around your home are meaningless against my staff,” he says, his words low and calculating. “It’s time we bring this feud to its natural conclusion. Bring me the girl.” 

 

“Its natural conclusion is your head rolling in my garden,” Regina bites out. “I’m game if you are.” 

 

The wizard smiles coldly. “I could set your house on fire,” he says, his words silky. “I could open a portal on your front lawn and then attack and destroy everything in my path. I could kill both your sons for no reason other than that you continue to get in my way.” 

 

“I won’t give you the girl,” Regina says darkly. “You can’t pit my family against each other and expect me to cave in to your sick plans.” 

 

The wizard looks unsurprised. “Then everyone here burns,” he says, and Regina forgets the tray she’s holding, lets go to slam a fist against the mirror, and the glasses fall to crash onto the kitchen floor.

 

The wizard is gone from the mirror when Emma rushes in, Ry behind her. “What’s wrong?” she demands breathlessly, and Regina motions wordlessly at the mess on the floor.

 

“Nothing,” she says. “Nothing at all.” 

 

Henry is holding Hope in the living room while Emma sweeps up the glass and Ry hovers over his other mother. Regina is startled to see Hook has moved forward while they’d been gone, watching Hope with a quiet kind of horror. Regina refuses to acknowledge him, swooping past him to hold Hope in her embrace, those brown eyes that look just like hers linked to hers as a smile breaks out on Hope’s face. 

 

“I didn’t know,” Hook says hoarsely. 

 

Henry doesn’t respond, an unfamiliar anger in his eyes that rocks Regina. Regina presses a kiss to Henry’s cheek and wraps Hope in her embrace, her eyes drifting shut as she considers her options. 

 

She’s running out of time before the wizard makes his move. All he has to do is appear outside and they’ll be forced out easily. It’s a plan without any elegance, but this wizard has always been more of a proponent of brute force. It’s a wonder he hasn’t attacked yet.

 

She pauses, Hope patting her face inquiringly. It  _ is  _ a wonder that he hasn’t attacked yet. In fact, it’s enough to make one think…

 

The staff feeds off of magic from children, but the wizard hasn’t taken much from children lately, has he? Regina and Emma had fended him off Hope together in Henry’s realm, and then he’d tried and failed to get much out of Robin in the realm where Cora had been alive. The Neverland boy had lost only a bit of his magic. And without his staff, this wizard is defenseless.

 

He’s weak now, she realizes suddenly. He’s weak and desperate and he’s trying to negotiate because he has nothing else. If his threat is a bluff–

 

But she can’t risk that, can’t risk Emma and Henry and Ry and Hope over a theory. No, she’ll have to stop him somehow, divert him from them and fight him on her own terms. She has to go out there and face him without putting Hope at risk. 

 

She sits in silence as Henry writes busily in his storybook and then wanders off to join Emma in the kitchen. No, she can’t leave Hope undefended in the house, either, not when she’s painting a target on everyone in the house’s back. 

 

She  _ hates _ this, hates knowing what her one option is. She’s alone in the room now, Hook gone and Hope in her arms, and she measures the distance from the door to where her wards end on the front lawn. If she can open a portal right  _ there _ , just outside the wards, she might be able to leap through it in time. She’s going to have to do what she never does, for Hope, and run away.

 

The house is quiet, and Regina is grateful that everyone seems otherwise occupied as she bundles Hope up and kisses her brow. “We’re going to save your mama and brothers,” she whispers, holding her close. “And then I’m going to save you.” 

 

She steps out onto the porch, moving gingerly down the steps, when Emma says from behind her, “I can’t believe you really thought I’d let you do this alone.  _ Again _ .” 

 

She’s leaning comfortably against one of the pillars on the porch, eyebrows raised. Regina stares at her. “I thought you were cleaning up the glass.” 

 

“I finished,” Emma says simply. “And then Henry came in with a very long paragraph he’d just written where you’d decided to run away to fight the wizard when we wouldn’t be around, so I parked myself out here and waited. We’re supposed to do this together, Regina.” She looks suddenly tired. “I know it’s been a long time, but I hadn’t thought you’d forgotten that.” 

 

Regina reaches for her hand, entwines their fingers and takes a breath. “I’ve gotten used to fighting on my own,” she admits, and Emma sucks in a breath of her own. 

 

They stare at each other, uncertain and still raw after the past twenty-four hours, and Emma ventures, “Since Neverland?” 

 

Regina knows what she’s asking. It’s almost timid, a peace offering, and Regina takes it. “Maybe before that,” she admits, and Emma looks at her without any comprehension. “Do you remember…you invited me to that party after you’d come home from the Enchanted Forest. No one wanted me there except for Henry and…and maybe you.” She’d brought a lasagna that the townspeople had eaten while glaring daggers at her, and she had only had eyes for Henry. 

 

Still, a part of her had craved Emma’s attention, had wanted Emma to come over and speak to her. She’d been invited just for Henry’s sake, she’d known, and it had been driven home when Emma had never quite wriggled away from the rest of the town to chat. “I left and you came after me, remember? You tried to get me to stay for cake, and I was…I don’t know,” she says, suddenly self-conscious. Emma watches her, her expression giving nothing away. “It was probably Neverland.” 

 

Emma exhales in a whoosh. “Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything? I would have– I’ve had a  _ thing  _ for you pretty much since I met you,” she admits, and Regina blinks at her, startled.

 

“I–“ She struggles to push aside that revelation. “We had other problems in Neverland,” she reminds Emma. “And you had Hook trailing after you like a lost puppy after Pan’s curse–“ 

 

“While  _ you  _ were kissing strange men in the woods,” Emma shoots back. It’s challenging but a little playful, and Regina relaxes. “Believe me, if I’d known then that you were up for it, Killian wouldn’t have had a chance.” 

 

Regina twists, stares at her for a moment with her heart in her throat, and she whispers, “And now?”

 

“Don’t open a portal,” Emma says, and nothing else. “We fight this wizard together.” 

 

The air in front of them is shimmering, a very different portal appearing before them in orange against black, and Emma says in a low voice, “Do we bring Hope inside?” 

 

“He’ll tear down the house and anyone concealing her.” Regina tightens her grip on the baby. “Together?” 

 

“Together,” Emma agrees, and they unleash a wave of magic at the portal, a shock of purple and blue that lighten and shift until it’s red and white, fire erupting and powered with magic as the portal widens. Regina can feel the magic pouring through her, rising from her belly and her heart and filling her with sheer power, with the ecstasy that is combining her magic with Emma’s. She breathes and it’s magic, red and white with a purple strand running through it at a quick, jumpy pace, and she feels more powerful than she ever has been.

 

The portal is glowing too brightly for Regina to look directly at it, and she squints, sure that this will be enough to silence the staff. The wizard is done for, will be  _ dead _ , and she can at last find some contentment. The wizard will never threaten anyone under her care again. The wizard…

 

The wizard is stepping out of the portal, his staff casting out a wave of power strong enough to deflect Regina and Emma’s combined force. “No!” Emma pants. “No!”

 

“He was supposed to be  _ weak _ ,” Regina gasps back. “How can he…?”

 

Her voice trails off and she studies the way their magic hits the staff’s shield, the way the red and white hit as a deeper red-white blend and slide along the staff, the way that the skippy purple line seems to disappear between the sliding sides of the shield–

 

The skippy purple line deepens as Regina’s magic falters, and Regina figures it out with sudden dread as she looks down. “Hope?” she whispers, and Hope looks up at her, her tan-brown complexion oddly pale and her eyes dull.

 

“Mama,” she responds weakly, barely a cough, and more magic erupts from her, flowing in a straight line toward the staff. 

 

“He’s draining her!” Regina cries out, and Emma lets out a strangled cry in response, charging at the wizard at top speed. “Emma, _ no! _ ” 

 

But Emma isn’t listening. Emma throws herself at the shield with her magic bursting from her at once, wild and uncontrolled, escaping in waves of power that the wizard deflects with some effort. Emma like this, driven only by desperation for their daughter– Emma is powerful beyond compare, even after a year spent suppressing the fighter she is deep down. Emma is unstoppable. Glorious. An  _ idiot _ .

 

“Emma!  _ Emma! _ ” Regina screams, and she yanks Hope away, twists around to stand between Hope and the staff as she had with Robin in Cora’s realm. “Emma,  _ stop _ !” 

 

The wizard twists the staff, jerks it forward, and Regina tenses and waits for the magic to hit her. Instead, it never makes it to her. Emma is standing in place in front of the staff, fire in her eyes and all her magic pouring from her, and the wizard sneers as Emma gasps, “I’m not going to let you  _ touch  _ them again!” 

 

“Mom.” It’s Ry beside her, Henry and Hook just behind him, and Regina passes Hope into his arms without a second thought. She flies forward, peels Emma off of the shield, and she says breathlessly into Emma’s ear, “Together. We said together.” 

 

Emma is ghostly pale, her skin burned and her eyes wild, and she nods weakly. “I don’t have much left,” she gasps. 

 

Regina holds out a hand. “Use me,” she says, and Emma takes her hand and their magic springs to life again. Their energy rages forward, battering at the shield made of Hope’s magic, and the wizard is sweating as he struggles to keep the staff steady. The magic flickers– “Again,” Regina says urgently– and then flickers once more, and Emma shoots forward as though she’s been shoved and kicks the wizard in the gut. 

 

He doubles over and Regina seizes the staff, gathering all the magic she can, and snaps the staff in two. Hope  _ screams _ , howls as though she’s been hurt, and Emma sobs as the magic erupts from the staff like an explosion. It throws them backward, burns their skin and makes Regina bite out a curse, the force of the explosion flattening the ground around them and creating a crater.

 

But it’s the wizard, bent over on the ground and clutching his gut, who gets the brunt of the explosion. The magic slams into him and he howls, thrown back spread-eagled and suspended in midair as he’d held the boy in Neverland. It tears at his skin, at his limbs, pulls him and scorches him until he shatters into blood and muscle and finally dust, and then the magic is quiet at last.

 

“Mom,” Henry says, rushing to her. “Mom!” He skids midway through and goes for Emma instead, and Regina sits up with aching limbs and peers at Emma. Ry is beside Emma a moment later, crouching as he stares down at her in horror.

 

Emma is red with awful, vicious burns, her clothes in tatters and her hair ragged and choppy. Her eyes are glazed over, her arms twitching, and there’s magic leaking from her fingers as though she can’t stop it from escaping. “Emma,” Regina says, her heart in her throat. 

 

Emma manages a weak smile. “Hope,” she mouths, and Regina nods shakily and twists around to find Hope, her heart thrumming with fear for both mother and daughter.

 

Hook is holding the baby, looking very helpless as he stares down at her. “Something wonky happened when the staff cracked,” he says, and he trudges down the walk to them. “She isn’t well. She needs…” 

 

Regina pulls herself to a stand, her aching bones cracking as she lays her eyes on Hope’s still body. “No,” she says, and she can feel the horror beginning to overwhelm her. “No,  _ Hope _ –“

 

Hope’s eyes are moving, very slightly, and her little body is trembling almost imperceptibly. “The wizard took all of her magic,” Henry says from Emma’s side. He’s regarding his little sister with grief, and Regina  _ won’t _ , she can’t allow this little girl she loves to–

 

She hasn’t felt like this, frozen with fear and horror, since Henry’s heart had been poisoned. “Hope,” she croaks, reaching to touch the baby.

 

Hope’s mouth moves, shapes out a  _ Ma _ – before she stops, exhausted, and her eyes begin to close. 

 

“She doesn’t have the magic she needs to save herself,” Regina says faintly, the tears heavy in her voice. “She doesn’t…” She lays a hand on Hope’s cheek, struggling to remember what kind of healing can possibly work with a child being so drained of power. Cora had known, in the other realm. Cora had… “She needs blood magic to replenish hers,” she whispers, and her eyes drift to Emma.

 

Emma has already lifted a frail hand, moving it incrementally toward Ry’s sword. “Have to…“ 

 

“You can’t,” Ry says immediately. “You’ll  _ die _ .” Emma’s magic is still leaking from her fingers, but there’s less and less with each passing moment, her magic as drained as Hope’s. 

 

“She doesn’t have enough magic left,” Regina murmurs, taking a breath. “We can’t wait until she recovers, or–“

 

Hook speaks. “You do it, then, Regina,” he says, and there’s defeat heavy in his voice as he holds Hope out to her. On the ground, Emma’s mouth opens, her eyes flickering weakly to them, and Regina can’t look at her at all. Ry is blinking back tears, and Henry is smiling as he squeezes Emma’s hand. “She is yours, isn’t she?”

 

“You knew,” Regina says, startled.

 

Hook smiles, twists his face into what could be bitterness and could be loss, drawn and resigned as he meets her eyes. “How could I not?” he says grudgingly, and he holds Hope out again. “Save the tyke. That’s the only part that matters now, isn’t it?” 

 

Emma whispers, her words tearing through the night, “I’m sorry, Killian.” He spares her a painful smile, then goes back to staring down at the baby as though he’s never seen her before. Emma stares at Regina in disbelief, and Regina looks away again, even as Emma manages her name.

 

Regina lifts Hope from Hook’s arms, cradling her as she manages another weak smile for Regina. “Stay still, baby,” she croons, swaying with Hope. “This is going to hurt for just a moment.” She lets her magic scrape a line across Hope’s hand, then tears another into her own skin. Careful, she channels her magic into the blood that springs from the cut, and she presses the blood to Hope’s.

 

Hope inhales a long, shuddering breath. The magic tingles between them, alive and refreshing, and Regina feels their connection as a palpable thing, cracking between them as Hope lets out a satisfied little sound. Her magic is…not decreasing but growing, spreading across a wider and wider breadth until Hope is enveloped in it, is lighting fires with it to make it expand even more until Hope’s skin has its color back and they can feel another presence, shared magic from the other side of a crater that cries out to join them.

 

Regina’s magic flows into Hope and Hope’s magic flows  _ everywhere _ , washing over the lawn until flowers grow wild in the grass, washing over Henry and Ry and even Hook until they’re all breathing easily, washing over the now-gone crater beneath the broken staff and washing over Emma to heal every wound that had incapacitated her. 

 

Emma sits up, her eyes wide as she stares at them. Hook exhales. Regina’s heart raps a staccato beat against her ribs.

 

Hope claps, bright-eyed and cheerful, and says, “Mama!” 

 

* * *

 

Henry and Ry have left the house to inspect the damage to the town, or so they insist. There had been some significant looks and a delicate suggestion from Henry that Regina join them with Hope, but Regina had declined. 

 

She isn’t leaving Emma alone with Hook, and so she leans against the doorway to her study with Hope squirming in her arms and fixes a dark glare on Hook. For once, he barely seems to notice her, his eyes trained on Emma. 

 

Emma looks worse for the wear, laid out across Regina’s couch with a warm compress on her forehead. Hope had healed the worst of it, but she’s still drained and exhausted, and she can barely lift her head to meet Hook’s glare. “How did you know?” she asks him.

 

Hook gestures irritably at Hope. “I looked at her,” he says. “She’s Her Majesty’s daughter, through and through. And you two haven’t been  _ subtle  _ in your affair.” 

 

“It wasn’t an affair,” Emma is quick to say, defensive. At Hook’s face, she repeats, “It  _ wasn’t _ . It was…a one-night stand.” 

 

“You expect me to believe that you two–“ Hook jabs a finger from Emma to Regina accusingly. “–had a one-night stand and then…called it quits?” he demands disbelievingly.

 

It’s quieter than Regina had expected this conversation to go, at least. They’re all subdued after what had gone on on the lawn, and Emma’s condition is still a sobering reminder of it. “Believe me,” Emma says dryly, “We were just as baffled by that.”

 

Hook stares at her, very perturbed. “That’s somehow worse,” he says, and without warning, his face twists and he slams his hook into the mantle of the fireplace with a  _ thunk _ . 

 

So maybe not so quiet, after all. Hope jumps in Regina’s arms, and Regina snaps out, “ _ Watch it _ .” 

 

“Go to hell,” Hook sneers at her, and then twists back to Emma. “I want to talk to you without  _ her  _ here.” 

 

“No,” Regina says immediately. 

 

Emma looks at her, guilty and uncertain, and Regina has no response for the pleading in her gaze. She stalks from the room, slamming the door, and paces back and forth in front of the study door before she remembers that Hope had never eaten dinner.

 

The door stays closed through dinner, through Hope’s bath, through a bottle and then past bedtime. Regina cradles Hope in her arms and rocks with her for a few minutes before bed, singing old lullabies as Hope mumbles, “Mama, mama,” until she’s asleep. 

 

Regina sets her down, stares down at a girl she shouldn’t have a claim to and feels tears sting her eyes. Emma holds her future in her hands now, and years of earned trust between them feel fragile suddenly, on the verge of unravelling.

 

_ No.  _ She trusts Emma, has trusted her with Henry and with their once-tenuous shared motherhood. But if Emma had been angry that Regina had kept her feelings a secret, she’s going to be furious about Hope. All of Regina’s carefully-reasoned excuses seem to fade away, and she’s left only with the hollow surety that Emma will not forgive.

 

She presses a kiss to the tips of her fingers and touches Hope’s cheek with them, and then she goes downstairs again.

 

The study door is open at last, and Hook is nowhere to be seen. Emma lies on the couch, unharmed, her eyes distant. “He’s leaving,” she says. “He’s going to try to claim the  _ Jolly Roger _ from the crew in Ry’s realm.” She smiles, almost to herself. “Apparently, it’s being captained by a pirate queen he’s determined to defeat.” 

 

The other Hook had told Regina as much about her double in his realm. “He can try,” she scoffs, setting down a plate of croquettes for Emma on the coffee table. “You should eat. It’ll help your magic replenish.” 

 

Emma eats silently, picking at her food, and Regina sits on the opposite couch and waits. After full minutes without speaking, she asks, “How do you feel about him leaving?” 

 

“I should feel heartbroken,” Emma says, staring at her croquettes. “But instead I think I just feel relieved. I held onto that relationship so tightly for so many years that I never really considered if it was what I wanted, or if…” She hesitates for a moment. “Or if I’d just invested too much in it to let go,” she finally admits, and she exhales as though she hasn’t taken a breath in years.

 

“You were always too good for him,” Regina murmurs, and Emma watches her solemnly.

 

When she speaks next, it’s unexpected. “Now that I’m going home, we should talk about custody arrangements,” she says, and Regina gapes at her in surprise. Emma looks down at her croquettes again. “We did it for Henry for years,” she says. “We can do it with Hope, too.” She watches Regina, her eyes unreadable. “You  _ are _ her mother.”

 

The statement falls with such ringing finality that Regina grips the sides of the couch, her breath quickening for a moment in sheer relief before she focuses on the rest of Emma’s words. “Wouldn’t it be simpler if you stayed here?” Regina points out. “You’re– you’re already settled here, and we share three children now. Is there any point to moving Ry and Hope back and forth all the time when we can all just live in the same house?” 

 

Emma regards her for a moment. “How long have you known that Hope was your daughter?” she says abruptly.

 

Flustered, Regina says, “I– not long. A few months, since the day the wizard nearly shredded me. I never knew for certain, though. Not until tonight,” she adds hastily. “I just knew it was a possibility.” 

 

Emma nods slowly. “I think I want to go home,” she says, and it stings like fingers clenching around Regina’s heart.

 

She hesitates, ready to fold again, and then thinks better of it. There are things to explain, to fix, and she doesn’t want to be the villain of this story anymore for the secrets she’s chosen to keep. “I know that choices are important to you,” she says haltingly, and Emma watches her, eyes unreadable again. “I thought that…I didn’t want our relationship to hinge on whether or not a baby was mine,” she admits. “I didn’t want Hope to be your motivation for…” She waves helplessly between them, and she closes her eyes in defeat.

 

When she opens them again, she captures Emma’s gaze and holds it. “I didn’t want to be a birth mother stepping in and demanding parental rights,” she says, and Emma flinches.

 

“Oh,” Emma whispers, nearly voiceless.

 

“I love her,” Regina murmurs. “You know that. I wanted nothing more than…than to be her mother. But I thought you’d made your choice.” She smiles self-consciously. “I was trying to respect it. I know you’re angry–“ 

 

Emma says, “I’m tired of being angry.” The claws around Regina’s heart loosen and fall. Emma hoists herself up against her pillows, raising herself slightly as her eyes stay fixed on Regina’s. “I’m tired of being hurt, and this tension, and fucking  _ years  _ of missed time…” She smiles, tremulous and weary, and Regina straightens, her whole body thrumming in anticipation. “I’m ready to be happy now,” Emma murmurs, and Regina rises from the couch and crosses the space between them in an instant.

 

Emma tugs her down, dots kisses to her lips and cheeks and jaw, pulls Regina until she’s kneeling on the floor beside the couch and Emma’s hands are tight in hers. “I love you, Regina Mills,” Emma breathes against her lips, and Regina lets out a sob, kissing her desperately and with all the relief of decades of wanting.

 

“It’s been too long,” she chokes out, and Emma is crying, too, beaming through her tears as they press their foreheads together. “I’ve wanted you for…for so…”

 

“I know,” Emma breathes, and she lets Regina’s hand go to stroke her cheek. “I know.” She laughs suddenly, soft and light. “It took fucking  _ three kids  _ together for us to get here,” she says, and Regina laughs with her, kisses her lips ardently as they curve into a smile.

 

She nuzzles Emma’s nose for a moment. “We aren’t exactly known for our stellar romantic decisions,” she points out, eyes wet with tears and smile impossibly wide. “But this is it. You’re it.” 

 

“You’re it,” Emma agrees fervently, her hands tangling in Regina’s hair, and Regina can see  _ forever  _ in her eyes, a comfort she’s craved since the moment she’d known that she’d been in love. 

 

Not when Emma had appeared at her front door with a timid  _ hi _ , no. Not through months of sparring over Henry while they’d fought the charged attraction between them. Not even when Henry had eaten the turnover and they’d been a  _ team _ , working together for the first time and united by their love for Henry.

 

Regina remembers Emma climbing out of the well after Regina had sucked in all the poison she’d left for Mother, remembers watching, wracked with pain, feeling something warm like relief when Emma had emerged instead. She remembers Emma’s smile in the moments after as though it had been seared into her heart, as though it had been something vital and defining instead of only a simple smile.

 

Maybe she’d fallen in love then. Maybe it had been, as she’d thought earlier that night, when Emma had come outside to find her after the party at Granny’s. Maybe it had been when they’d joined their magic together to save the town and stop the trigger, or maybe it had been when they’d learned to listen to each other in Neverland.

 

Maybe it had been at the town line that she’d known that she’d been in love, her world falling apart around her as she’d had to say goodbye to Henry, and Emma Swan had stood before her with her heart in her eyes. Regina had known then, had been determined as she’d looked at Henry and Emma that neither one would suffer in their lives without her. That had been  _ love _ , giving and expecting nothing in return, and she hadn’t thought herself capable of that kind of love anymore until that moment.

 

There had been distractions in the years that had followed, of course, but there had still been them: Emma’s unshakeable faith in Regina and her determination to give her happiness at all costs. Regina shifting from resentment to affection to the certainty that she would do everything in her power to protect Emma Swan. She remembers–  _ unique, maybe even special _ and  _ you need a drinking buddy  _ and  _ Emma, you’re better than this _ – remembers lunch dates and magic lessons and quiet, emotional admissions. 

 

She remembers darkness whirling around her, threatening to take her from her redemption, and Emma’s eyes frantic on her, remembers shouting out, _ EMMA, NO! _ with her voice hoarse and raw, remembers knowing with absolute trust and horror that Emma would do anything for her, too.

 

There had been so much pain in the years that had followed that, so much she’d rather forget. Love and loss and Emma and Henry her constants, even when they’d been shaken by new and old demons. Emma as Dark Swan, Regina’s heart cracking under the weight of  _ Don’t Miss Swan me, we’ve been through too much _ and then, many weeks later, under the weight of a single wedding ring. Eleven long years with nothing more than a nod and then  _ sorry I’m late _ , Emma with a grin as though no time has passed at all. 

 

They’ve found each other across realms, have loved each other hard enough to bring back memories and move moons and make a daughter together in a quiet motel room in an enchanted forest. They’ve been separated for far too long, by time and space and their own sheer stubbornness, and now,  _ at last _ …

 

_ At last.  _ Nearly two decades, and they’re finally at peace. They’ve finally found the thing they’ve been searching for since  _ you’re Henry’s birth mother?  _ and Regina’s world spinning backward on its axis.

 

The kisses grow more passionate, the mood charged with something other than relief now, and Regina draws back, clasping a hand to Emma’s cheek as Emma gazes at her in quiet awe. “We have to…you need to take it easy,” she says, gently reproving with a kiss to the tip of Emma’s nose. “Your magic is still–“ 

 

“I don’t give a damn about my magic,” Emma says, her fingers moving up Regina’s legs and dragging up her skirt as she fixes Regina with a steely glare that barely masks the laughter beneath it. “If you don’t bring me upstairs right now, I swear I will die.” 

 

Regina sighs heavily, then sucks in a hard breath as Emma’s hands keep moving against her. “I suppose I have no choice, then,” she says wryly, and she leans in for another kiss as a cloud of magic whirls around them.


	9. Epilogue

Hope Swan-Mills is in deep, deep trouble.

 

It’s Lucy’s fault,  _ really _ . Lucy had been the one to show her the portal in the first place when they’d been at the beach last week, and she’s the one who keeps talking about everything she’d gone through when she’d been eight.  _ My first Dark Curse was at eight _ , as if Hope hasn’t had to fight new threats with her moms, like, a billion times in the past eight years. 

 

She’d just wanted to be like Lucy, which is Lucy’s fault, too, because Lucy is so  _ cool _ and Ry is so  _ cool _ and Robin is so  _ cool _ and Hope is  _ just a kid _ . So she’d gathered together her backpack and gear and sneaked into the portal at the beach, just to see what it’d be like on the other side.

 

 _Rule of thumb, Hope_ , Mama had told her once. _Any portal in the woods will lead you to the woods in another realm. You ride a car into a portal on the road, you’ll find yourself on a road somewhere._ But Mama had never once clarified that walking into a portal in the middle of the beach would leave her floundering in the _ocean_.

 

She swims desperately, struggling to form a raft with her magic. It sputters and disintegrates every time a wave crashes over her, and she bobs helplessly with the waves and shouts, “Help! HELP!” 

 

Finally, in the distance, she sees a ship, high sails and a pirate flag waving, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “Help!” she shouts, and she throws up a hand and manages to hurl a flare of magic into the air. It’s bright against the dark sky, and Hope watches wide-eyed as the ship shifts direction and comes toward her. 

 

A rope is thrown to her and she grabs onto it, spitting out water as she’s pulled aboard. “Thank you!” she says breathlessly. “Please don’t be villains, I  _ just  _ got rescued from the last bad guy who tried to take over my town.” 

 

The man standing over her laughs. He looks vaguely familiar, though Hope can’t place him in her realm. He’s wearing a pirate’s clothes and has a hook for a hand, and Hope is pretty sure that she’s in deep trouble, after all.

 

Still, she’s had the safety protocol for being trapped in another realm drummed into her from the moment she was old enough to speak. “Is there a Queen Regina or a Princess Emma in this land that you can take me to?” she asks politely. 

 

The man blinks at her, looking startled, and then his eyes seem to settle on her with recognition. “Hope?” he says, his gaze sweeping over her. He looks oddly at her, his eyes delighted and wistful at once. “Is that you?” 

 

She tilts her head, studying the man again. “Do I know you?” 

 

He blinks, hesitates, shakes his head in what’s almost resignation. “No. No, of course not. I’m first mate of the  _ Jolly Roger _ ,” he says. “I believe I know your parents.” He pauses, and then says, “I was married to your mother, once.” 

 

Hope regards him with great skepticism. “I don’t think so,” she says, and he looks at her with something like wry amusement. “Is there a Queen Regina or a Princess Emma in this land that you can take me to?” she repeats.

 

“A queen, perhaps,” rings out a familiar voice from behind the pirate, and Hope breathes a sigh of relief. Mama– well, not  _ Mama _ , per se, but a woman who shares her face, with a long ponytail whipping in the wind and the clothes of a pirate queen– smiles down at her from the sail she’s standing beside. “There is no princess here.” 

 

Her arm snakes out and wraps around a woman’s wait, tugging her close. She’s another pirate, dressed for the sea with her wild hair barely pulled back with a band, and she presses a kiss to Pirate Queen Mama’s cheek. “I was a princess, once,” Pirate Mom reminds Pirate Queen Mama. “You abducted me.” 

 

Pirate Queen Mama snorts. “You would have been wasted as a princess,” she says scornfully. “I liberated you.” 

 

“Mm,” Pirate Mom says, turning her attention to Hope. She crouches in front of Hope, looking at her with bright-eyed interest, and she says, “And don’t you look just like my wife.” 

 

“I’m Hope Swan-Mills,” Hope says, and she reaches out and gives Pirate Mom a big hug. Pirate Mom looks taken aback, but her eyes are soft and her arms are tight around Hope, and so Hope launches herself forward to hug Pirate Queen Mama, too. Pirate Queen Mama touches Hope’s back, her hands fluttering a bit, and Pirate Mom keeps a hand on her wife’s after Hope backs away. “Can you help me find my moms?” 

 

They exchange a look, one Hope knows well as their  _ dealing with Hope _ look. She’s gone to dozens of realms, met dozens of Moms and Mamas, and they always have the same expression on their faces when they meet Hope. 

 

Almost every realm has a Mom. Almost every realm has a Mama. And in every realm where they both exist, they’re happy and in love. Mom says that it hasn’t always been like that; that there had been a time when they could take apart the whole universe and find not one Mom and Mama that had been happy together. Mama says  _ you changed things for us.  _ Mom says  _ your mother being Queen of the Universe changed that _ , and Mama smacks her arm and tells Hope stories instead of all the realms they’ve visited. 

 

There isn’t another Hope, not yet, but Hope is sure that she’ll find one if she keeps hunting. Henry hasn’t had much luck.  _ You’re one in a million, kid _ , he’d said fondly, mussing her hair. 

 

Henry isn’t cool, not at  _ all _ , but he’s a pretty great big brother. Hope bets that he’d agree that this is Lucy’s fault, too.

 

If she ever makes it home. The pirate queens are murmuring to each other, arguing with the first mate, and then Pirate Queen Mama finally turns back to Hope. “There’s a portal in that whirlpool,” she says, gesturing back the way that Hope had come. “We can bring you back home, but it might be a battle against the waves.” She flicks her wrist and the sails of the ship glow with purple magic. 

 

“That won’t be necessary,” calls a voice in the night, and Hope twists around and looks over the side of the ship. Grumpy’s little tugboat is chugging along beside the ship, a mermaid floating beside it. Mama’s arms are folded as she looks up at Hope, and Mom shakes her head and sighs. 

 

“Time to revisit the enchanted walkie talkie idea,” Mom says, raising an eyebrow at Mama. “And you thought that’d just encourage her. Like she  _ needs _ encouragement.” 

 

“I stand corrected,” Mama says, and she waves a hand, teleporting them up to the ship. 

 

Mom blinks up at the ship, then at the other Mom and Mama. “Oh,  _ boy _ ,” she breathes, licking her lips as she looks at Pirate Queen Mama. “This is going on the list.” 

 

Mama rolls her eyes. “What list?” Hope asks curiously. 

 

“You are in deep trouble, young lady,” Mama says sternly instead. “What were you thinking, jumping into an unfamiliar portal? We could have lost you. You could have been–“ Her voice gets scratchy and weird, and she crouches down, lifts Hope into her arms and holds her tightly. 

 

Hope’s really too big to be held now, but she clings to Mama anyway, lays her head against her shoulder as Mom joins the embrace. She’d been pretty scared in the water, and she shivers now as it all hits, the adventure fading away and leaving just the fear. She’s cold and wet and she wants to go  _ home _ , to her warm room with a castle on the wall and her big stuffed swan on her bed.

 

“Hey,” Mom murmurs, kissing her hair. “C’mere, kiddo.” She shrugs off her red jacket and tucks it onto Hope’s shoulders, and Mama wraps her scarf around Hope’s neck. “Let’s go home. We can talk consequences later.” 

 

“You’re grounded,” Mama says. “And no screens for the whole weekend.” But she kisses Hope’s hair, too, and her arms are still tight around Hope, like she’s been just as afraid as Hope had been.

 

“Is she…?” It’s Pirate Queen Mama, eyeing them with wonder. “Is she really yours?”

 

Mama smiles, stroking Hope’s hair. “She is,” she says, and she turns to go, Mom beside her.

 

“Swan,” the first mate says abruptly, and Hope remembers that he’d insisted he’d been married to one of her mothers.

 

Mom turns, flashes him a wary smile. “It’s Swan-Mills now,” she says, and he inclines his head silently to Mom, then Mama. Mom says, “Regina?” 

 

Mama nods. “Time to go,” she agrees, and Hope lays her head against Mama’s shoulder again. Mom slips an arm around them, the three of them connected, and magic whirls around them as Hope’s mothers bring her home.

**Author's Note:**

> We did it, SWEN! We made it until the end. This is the longest I've ever been in an active fandom– let alone one that _ended_ – and I am so appreciative to y'all for making it a pleasure to write for. ♡ I know that it's been a rough ride at times and some people were hoping for canon in the finale, but I wanted us to have some endgame to enjoy right away, in every universe and every realm. I also believe more in second chances than happy beginnings. :)
> 
> Y'all can click on [this](http://coalitiongirl.tumblr.com/post/171378832633/ive-been-thinking-about-doing-this-for-a-while), if you're so inclined!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? [Cover Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466909) by [sincerely_a_fan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerely_a_fan/pseuds/sincerely_a_fan)




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